Kays Translations

Chapter 20: The Underground Conference Room

— [Meluestat — The Underground Conference Room of Baron Merlot’s Estate] —

As soon as we returned to the baron’s mansion, the head butler, Sebience-san, guided us down to a room beneath the estate.

“Forgive me for calling you in so soon after your return,” Tobias began, his voice carrying both apology and urgency.

“It’s no trouble,” Mother replied softly. “I have reports to share as well.”

“Good. But before we get to that,” Tobias said, folding his hands behind his back, “let me explain a few things about this room.”

With that, he began his explanation.

This underground chamber had once been a private emergency shelter—a relic from the baron’s ancestors, when noble feuds were common and safety meant secrecy. Its single, well-reinforced entrance made it easy to guard against intruders. Because of that, Tobias had converted it into a secure conference room exclusively for matters concerning the glassworks enterprise.

“It used to be a storage room,” Tobias said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Ever since we no longer needed it for emergencies.”

The room’s layout reflected its original purpose. There was a main hall, roughly twelve tatami in size, and three smaller rooms of four tatami each. The structure allowed for short-term living underground if necessary. They had cleared out the stored crates and moved them to an unused guest room upstairs, replacing them with a large table in the center and ten sturdy chairs arranged neatly around it.

“The key to this room,” Tobias continued, tapping the iron ring at his belt, “is held only by myself and Sebience. That means no one can enter without one of us present.”

“I see,” I said. “Since this was once a shelter… does that mean there’s a secret passage?”

“There used to be,” Tobias admitted. “The current underground corridor was built over what was once the escape route.”

Apparently, the passage had once led to an exit beyond the mansion grounds. When the administrative hall was later constructed, the original exit was sealed off and the tunnel reworked into a storage passage connecting the hall’s basement.

“I see,” I said, glancing around the dimly lit stone walls. “It does feel… secure.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Tobias replied, a note of pride in his voice.

The hidden doorway beneath the administrative hall, the narrow corridors twisting into unseen corners—it all felt strangely exciting, like stepping into a secret base built for clandestine meetings.

“Now then,” Tobias said, taking his seat at the head of the table, “let’s hear your report. I’ve brought the documents from the workshop at the administrative hall so we can cross-check them.”

“Yes,” Mother nodded, placing her folder on the table. “I’ll begin with the matter of the Opsidio Trading Company.”

Her tone sharpened as she began her report.

She explained their negotiations—how, though the company had eventually backed down, their attitude suggested they had not truly given up. She also mentioned the persistent tail following her, implying they were still seeking information.

“They said, ‘Even though your family purchased the rights, we don’t intend to withdraw’?” Tobias repeated, his brow furrowing.

“They’re merchants,” Mother replied calmly. “Even if they abandon the deal, they won’t give up on acquiring information.”

Tobias rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So they might still be fishing for leaks.”

“Yes. Heisbert-san mentioned he was willing to ‘offer his assistance.’ It’s likely an excuse to approach us under the guise of cooperation, waiting for information to slip through.”

That strategy had caused many enterprises to collapse in the past—their monopolies undone by carelessly leaked secrets. We couldn’t afford to make the same mistake.

“Then we’ll have to be cautious,” Tobias murmured.

“Exactly,” Mother agreed, pulling out another set of documents. “That’s why I’ve drafted a renovation plan for the workshop. Please review it.”

She spread a sheet of paper covered in rough sketches across the table and began explaining her ideas—adding walls, rearranging corridors, reinforcing soundproofing.

“And you also propose an experiment with soundproofing?” Tobias asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Mother said. “It’s only a theory at this point, but I’d like to test whether core sheets could be used that way.”

“Core sheets?” Tobias leaned forward, intrigued. “You heard that from the alchemist, I take it?”

Mother froze for an instant, clearly caught off guard—she had almost forgotten that the “alchemist” was supposed to be part of her cover story.

“…Yes,” she replied after a heartbeat, regaining composure. “That’s correct.”

“I see,” Tobias chuckled. “Magical soundproofing devices are excellent, but they can’t run for more than three hours. If those sheets can do the same job passively, they’d be far more practical.”

It crossed my mind that this method alone might be profitable information, but the thought faded quickly. The core sheets were already being produced—if others learned their secondary uses, the technology would spread instantly. No, better to keep that one quiet.

Next, Mother explained how we would manage information.

The knowledge would be divided into sections: glass manufacturing, lens crafting, optical principles, and eyeglass assembly. Workers in the workshop would only receive what they needed for their specific tasks.

Only the artisans themselves would know the true manufacturing methods.

Selling eyeglasses meant that some knowledge about lenses would inevitably become public, but as long as we kept the formula for transparent glass secret, imitation would be difficult.

Still… the “method” she hinted at to prevent imitation wasn’t exactly honorable.

“I understand now,” Tobias said, nodding slowly. “That’s why you want the workshop so heavily secured.”

“Also,” Mother added, “to minimize exposure, I’d prefer glass sales to be handled outside the workshop entirely.”

“Agreed,” Tobias said after a pause. “We can’t risk outsiders entering such a critical site.”

That settled the matter of facilities and secrecy. The next issue was people.

“So, how is the recruitment coming along?”

“It’s just beginning,” Tobias sighed. “The slavers did have one alchemist available, but no glass artisans yet.”

Currently, Tobias himself served as general overseer, with Sebience as his aide. The workshop’s manager was to be Eldrus—the same man who had served as gatekeeper until yesterday.

Eldrus’s appointment made sense. His calm, precise handling of yesterday’s incident had caught Tobias’s attention. His quick thinking had also sparked the entire glass venture in the first place; this promotion was both recognition and reward.

To support him, Sebience’s subordinate—Fichtel-san who managed the baron’s financial assets—would handle the workshop’s business accounts.

“For now, that’s all we’ve settled,” Tobias said.

Finding capable craftsmen, however, would take time.

“If we can’t find any within the domain, we’ll expand our search beyond it,” Tobias added.

Mother nodded. “That’s wise. In the long term, we’ll need more alchemists as well. The more, the better.”

Indeed. If an alchemist ran out of mana, work would halt entirely. Having several on hand ensured smoother progress.

“What about you, Sebience?” Tobias asked. “Any thoughts?”

“With your permission,” Sebience said respectfully, “I would advise that we train new alchemists ourselves.”

He went on to explain the current situation: only two alchemists were active within Baron Merlot’s domain, each training their own children as successors. Since they were bound to their own families’ work, we couldn’t recruit them for the glass enterprise.

Therefore, if the barony wanted more alchemists, it would need to nurture them from within.

“That’s easier said than done,” Tobias mused. “We’ve no relatives young enough to start training now.”

It was true. To become a magician or alchemist, training had to begin around the age of ten, when one’s mana grew most rapidly. Missing that window meant one could never reach mastery.

“In that case,” Sebience said quietly, “perhaps we could adopt children from the orphanage.”

“The orphanage?”

“Yes. Only children under thirteen live there, so age wouldn’t be an issue.”

I’d heard that magical aptitude was often hereditary, which made his suggestion bold—but not impossible. Even if their bloodline lacked noble magic, early training could still nurture enough mana for them to practice basic alchemy.

“I recall Diederick-san mentioning an orphanage near the glassworks,” Mother said.

“That’s correct,” Sebience confirmed. “It’s the civic orphanage, operated by the barony itself.”

There were two orphanages in the city—one run by the church, and the other by the baron’s household. The latter stood close to the workshop.

“So you believe even orphans could become alchemists, given proper education?” Tobias asked.

“To be frank, my lord,” Sebience replied, “I cannot be certain. But with early instruction, I believe it possible.”

Training alone couldn’t create talent—but education would still give those children literacy, numeracy, and a future beyond poverty.

“…I see,” Tobias said after a pause. “It might be worth the experiment.”

Whether the chosen child would find fortune or misfortune in such a fate, no one could say. Still, I hoped they would, at least, be allowed to choose it for themselves.

“Very well,” Tobias concluded. “We’ll reconsider our recruitment strategy, including this proposal for training.”

“Understood,” Mother said. “We’ll assist with the workshop preparations in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” Tobias said, a weary smile crossing his face. “I’m not well-versed in such matters, so work closely with Eldrus. Submit your renovation plan within the next few days.”

“Yes, Tobias-sama.”

The meeting had served mainly to exchange updates, but by its end, our course was clear. Each of us now had our tasks.

“Well then,” Tobias said, rubbing his eyes, “let’s call it a day. I’ve been thinking nonstop since yesterday, and it’s beginning to wear on me.”

I hadn’t noticed before, but faint dark circles shadowed his eyes. It seemed even the baron hadn’t slept much lately.

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