“Y-yes. Understood.” There was such earnest sincerity in Ihan’s voice that Professor Uregoreum found himself involuntarily overwhelmed.
“What have you been doing, Professor? You weren’t taking a rest, were you…?” The disciple looked at his master with suspicion.
If he’d finished his own work first and come back, he should be doing other things—surely he couldn’t have been resting.
Seeing that look, Professor Uregoreum felt a stab of guilt; perhaps he had been pushing his students too hard.
“No. I was doing my work too. Look.” Professor Uregoreum gestured and pointed out the mansion window.
In the neat southern-style garden, a few fruit trees hung heavy with produce, and two servants were raking the fallen leaves and cutting the grass.
Ihan blinked in puzzlement.
“You were securing the fruit?”
“…Not that tree—over there. The window on the other side!”
“Oh. That one, you mean.” Only then did Ihan see the window Professor Uregoreum had been pointing at.
In the large room on the opposite side of the house, members of the Meikin family and the city’s alchemists were shaking hands.
From their expressions, it was clear the negotiations had ended to everyone’s satisfaction.