The secretary not only handed over the letter of introduction but also wrote down the address of the recommended artisan’s workshop separately.
[Classman’s workshop is located in Sector 3-2 of the southern district of the capital. There is no sign, but knock on the door on the first floor of the red brick building at the given address.]
As soon as the paper was lightly touched, it was completed.
It must have been written using magic specialized in shorthand or document creation.
***
“Shall we go then? Get up, Clea.”
“Ah, yes…”
The emperor’s carriage had already left the street and disappeared into the distance.
Unlike Ellie, who immediately stood up and dusted off her hands and knees, Clea remained sitting in a daze until Ellie spoke to her.
“Wait… hold on… My legs feel weak.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow at her friend’s gaze and asked, “What’s wrong?”
‘…That’s what I should be asking.’
Clea was dumbfounded.
‘How could she be so calm?’
Not just Clea, but even the passing nobles had been overwhelmed by the emperor’s immense mana and its precision.
In fact, even now, a middle-aged nobleman over there hadn’t even noticed that his glasses had slipped down his nose, and on the other side, both the young ladies and their maids were collapsed on the ground.
No—looking closely, except for one person, no one on this street was standing on their feet.
Even without intent, just existing in one place was enough to weigh down others and inspire reverence.
That was the nature of the one who stood above all.
“Are you really struggling? Want me to carry you?”
That single exception was Ellie.
Even though a being greater than everyone, capable of bringing all to their knees, had passed by, she remained unaffected.
Though just one person, she had put a crack in the meaning of “above all.”
“A-Ah, no…”
For some reason, just looking at Ellie’s outstretched hand made strength return to Clea’s legs.
So she took Ellie’s hand and stood up—the second person on this street to do so.
“Shall we go right away, or do you want to rest for a bit?”
Ellie tapped the rolled-up document that had been bestowed upon her by His Majesty.
“Let’s go right away.”
Clea answered with a bit of stubbornness.
To be honest, she wanted to rest a little.
But she felt that if she accepted Ellie’s consideration now, she wouldn’t be able to remain her friend.
Because even if they weren’t equal, a friend should at least try to be.
So she pushed herself forward on her trembling legs, forcing her pounding heartbeat to settle.
To stand beside Ellie.
***
“Hmm, without a doubt, this is the emperor’s seal.”
The owner of the workshop in Sector 3-2 of the southern district was a rough-looking old man with a beard.
Despite being a magician, he had a body built like a carpenter or stonemason, likely from doing hard labor himself.
“If the order is to set everything aside and craft a wand, I have no choice. Come in.”
The old man’s pink eyes scanned Clea.
By the way, his hair was pink too.
It should have looked out of place, yet it was so extremely mismatched that it somehow circled back to fitting.
Ellie spoke to the aged craftsman.
“No.”
The old man stopped.
The muscles on his back writhed under his shirt like snakes.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
Ellie held up two fingers.
“First, the one receiving the wand isn’t my friend—it’s me. My name is Ellie.”
And—
“If there are other projects you need to finish first, I don’t mind being pushed back. Actually, I’m fine waiting until every commission that came before mine is completed, even if that means after today.”
“…Are you two students of Lykeion?”
“We’re new students at the academy.”
The old man stroked his pink beard with arms as thick as logs, then gestured inside with a nod.
“Come in for now.”
***
The entire first floor of the building was the workshop.
A large workbench occupied the center.
The walls were neatly lined with countless pieces of wood, gemstones, and metals, while saws, knives, and chains hung in a row on one side.
In one corner, there was a modest seating area that seemed to have been set up just for the sake of having one.
The three of them sat on the hard chairs.
The craftsman didn’t bother offering refreshments and got straight to the point.
“Do you have any idea how long my order list is?”
“I don’t.”
“At least seven years. If anything comes up, it could stretch to nine or even ten. Meanwhile—”
He disrespectfully tapped the introduction letter and the document guaranteeing payment that Ellie had handed over.
“If I follow this, I can assess you today and deliver the wand within seven days.”
A miracle where years turn into days.
The magic of power.
“Now that you understand, I’ll ask again. Do you still want me to finish every prior commission before making yours?”
Ellie’s response was unwavering.
“Of course.”
Because—
“Otherwise, you won’t put your heart into it, will you?”
“…What?”
“Your expression showed your dissatisfaction, didn’t it? You were unhappy about having to push aside your own schedule and plans for this sudden commission. If you start crafting in that state, there’s no way the final product will be the best it can be—”
Bang!
The elderly artisan slammed his fist onto the table.
“…Ellie.”
His voice was like the growl of a wild beast.
“Don’t look down on those who make things for a living.”
His sharp, piercing gaze flashed.
“Even if I’m given only three days—or even a single day—I can craft a wand greater than anyone else’s. I have that level of skill. That’s why, even though I’m just a mere wand maker, I was able to establish a workshop in the Southern District. Do you understand?”
Ellie stared at his clenched fist, then slowly raised her own.
And then—BOOM!
She slammed it down onto the table, creating a resounding crash.
“Of course, if it’s you, you can create something better than anyone else.”
Mana crackled across the tabletop.
“But what I want isn’t just a wand that’s better than what others can make. I want the greatest wand you’ve ever crafted in your entire life.”
Her eyes were both intense and chillingly serious.
“A piece that even the Emperor would covet. A masterpiece that, in the moment of your death, would flash before your eyes and make you feel that your life was worth it. That’s the kind of wand I want.”
Simply put—
“A wand even greater than the one held by the person who handed me this letter of introduction.”
Ellie’s dark eyes clashed fiercely with the elderly artisan’s pink ones.
“If I can get my hands on a wand like that, I don’t care how long I have to wait. Ten years? As long as you don’t die, I’ll wait thirty if I have to. I will never give up. I won’t take this lightly. An opportunity like this will never come again.”
Silence filled the workshop.
Yet, it was the kind of silence so sharp and tense that it felt like it could explode at any moment.
***
“…Ha.”
The one to break it was the elderly artisan—
With laughter.
“Hahaha! Ahahahahahaha!!”
When a man as massive as a mountain laughed, it was as refreshing as the wind rolling down from one.
Clea, who had been crushed by the overwhelming presence of both Ellie and the artisan, felt like her mind was about to explode from the rapid shifts between hot and cold pressure.
The artisan laughed until his lungs emptied, then suddenly bellowed a name.
“Garzan!”
“Y-Yes! I’m coming!”
From the upper floor of the workshop, a boy with the same pink eyes and hair as the artisan came running down.
The old man gestured toward Ellie and Clea.
More precisely, he gestured at Ellie, while Clea, sitting beside her, was merely along for the ride.
“She’s your junior. Introduce yourself.”
“Uh, um… Hello, h-hello…?”
“Now that you’ve greeted her, go back upstairs.”
“…Huh?”
“Go.”
“Y-Yes…”
The boy, still dazed, retreated back upstairs.
Clea sympathized with him deeply.
Once his grandson was gone, the artisan turned to Ellie.
“Give me one year.”
His voice was calm, but beneath it, passion roared like molten lava.
“Before you advance to your second year, I will craft you a wand greater than anything that currently exists—or anything I have ever created before. I won’t just promise it. I’ll make a contract.”
“That’s hardly the blink of an eye.”
“Then it’s settled.”
Ellie extended her hand over the table.
The old man’s hand, as large as a pot lid, grasped her small one firmly and shook it.
A contract was formed—one so binding that no document could ever match its weight.
***
“Wow, this cake is really good!”
Clea blankly watched as Ellie happily devoured her fifth slice of cake.
She had only spent one day with Ellie, yet it felt like she had walked straight through the eye of a storm.
The Emperor.
And the elderly artisan.
Each encounter had lasted less than thirty minutes, but the sheer tension had made time stretch endlessly.
“…Aren’t you eating?”
“I… I should.”
A slice of cake sat in front of Clea.
A luxurious dessert made with sugar-glazed autumn apples and cinnamon from the distant East.
She knew she should eat it.
It would surely taste delicious.
But all she did was hesitantly fiddle with her fork.
One thing had become certain.
Life at the academy with Ellie would never, ever be boring.
“What’s wrong? Are you regretting ordering it? Want to try this one instead?”
Ellie scooped up a large bite of her own cake—made with fresh cream, cheese, and mixed berry jam—and held it up to Clea’s lips.
Sweet cream smeared onto her lips as she hesitated.
Clea opened her mouth to protest—
“Mmph?!”
—Only for Ellie to misinterpret it as acceptance, popping the cake right into her mouth.
“Told you it’s good, right? Hehe.”
Seeing her friend so happy to share something delicious, Clea thought to herself once again.
Truly, life with Ellie would never be dull.