Chapter 219: Material Processing

Richard thought for a moment before asking, “Do you think... we can keep this quiet until they open a new well in the city?”

Old Biggs set his cup back on the table.

“Maybe we can, maybe we can't.”

Richard sighed.

“Old Biggs, you should be careful for a while.”

“Heh.” Old Biggs gave a dry chuckle.

He fished that Copper Penny out of his pocket again and flipped it between his fingers.

“You're doing it again.”

“I'm not joking.”

“Neither am I.” Old Biggs flipped the penny over. “I'm telling you, the safest person in Briston is me.”

“...You've said that.”

“I've said it, and I'll say it again.”

The penny flipped between his fingers once more.

“I'm a man with no wife and no children.”

Richard looked up from his leather case.

In the months he'd known Old Biggs, he had never heard the man bring up his family.

Old Biggs sighed and set the penny down.

“...I had a sweetheart years ago. She worked at a teahouse in the South District of the Imperial Capital.”

“At the time, my teacher had just sent me to Briston to be a coroner.

“Every year when I went back to the Imperial Capital for Christmas, I'd shadow my senior sister on her house calls in the South District.

“I'd help out with odd jobs, and gradually started talking to that girl.”

“What happened?”

“...She got sick.”

Old Biggs said it plainly.

“A lung disease. It dragged on for a long time, but she never told me.

“I hadn't been a coroner for long back then, so I only made so much a month.

“By the time we got together and I found out about it, she had disappeared. I never knew where she went.”

Old Biggs rubbed his chest absentmindedly.

“She was a good girl. Never borrowed a penny from me.”

Richard didn't know what to say.

He started to speak.

“So you've just been on your own ever since?”

“Yeah.” Old Biggs nodded. “Nothing to regret, really.”

“The longer I work in this line of business, the more I feel it's better to be alone.

“No attachments. It keeps your hands steady when you work.

“If one day I end up lying on this table myself...”

“Here you go again.”

“Don't interrupt me.”

Old Biggs waved the interruption away.

“...If one day I end up lying on this table myself, no one will lose sleep over my death.”

Richard hugged his leather case a little tighter.

He wanted to offer some comfort, but nothing felt appropriate.

Old Biggs picked his teacup back up.

“Go on. Weren't you looking for the chief?”

“...Right.”

Richard stood up and walked toward the door.

As he reached it, Old Biggs called out to him.

“Kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Once you get that book, you can skim the first three chapters, but take your time chewing through the rest.

“When my senior sister studied it, she got through the first three chapters in a week. For the later ones, she spent a year on each.”

“Got that?”

“Got it.”

Richard pushed the door open and left.

Up on the third floor, the door to Wentworth's office was open.

Richard knocked once.

“Come in.”

Wentworth looked much better today.

Given the time that had passed, the aftereffects from that needle of [Moon Nail: Reflection] had long since faded.

“Sit.” Wentworth closed the document in front of him.

Richard sat across from him.

“I'd like to requisition a few things.”

“Go ahead.” Wentworth pulled a blank internal requisition form closer and set his fountain pen down.

“Two herbs. One is Multi-Eyed Black Moss.”

The pen scratched across the paper.

“For the other, I'd like to request Mistbell.”

The pen paused, and Wentworth looked up.

“...How do you know the name Mistbell?”

Richard ran through his prepared answer before speaking.

“I was reading some materials my aunt sent me a while back, and an overview mentioned it.

“It said Mistbell and Silent Fern could be used interchangeably in certain sealing spell formulas.

“I know Silent Fern is hard to get through official channels.

“But I heard there's still some Mistbell circulating in the private market, so I thought I'd ask.”

Wentworth stared at him for a moment.

He lowered his pen back to the paper.

“You've got a quick mind.”

He didn't press the issue, simply adding 'Mistbell' to the form.

“I wouldn't be able to requisition Silent Fern for you anyway. Even the Northern Headquarters doesn't have much of it; they're precious research samples.

“Mistbell is doable. The Hunter families of the Gaelic Highlands hand over a certain quota to the Northern Headquarters every year.”

“How much do you need?”

“Just a pinch for now,” Richard replied. “I need to see if I can even control it first. I might just end up wasting it.”

“Five grams.” Wentworth jotted the number down.

“Five grams is enough for you to practice with for a while.

“I'll approve twenty grams for the Multi-Eyed Black Moss.

“It's much cheaper. That'll be plenty for practice.”

“Thank you.”

“Next.”

Wentworth set the pen down.

“What else do you want to requisition?”

Richard lifted his bag onto the desk and took out two small packages wrapped in oil paper.

He opened the first, revealing three Soul-Gnawer canines.

Wentworth's brow twitched.

“...What are these?”

Richard offered a casual excuse. “Traded for them from a Hunter I know. Soul-Gnawer canines.”

“Hmm.” Wentworth nodded, assuming they came from the Ashford Family's channels. “Items from the Ash Belt.”

“You recognize them.”

“I do.” Wentworth pushed the oil paper wrapping aside.

“One of my field operatives walks the Moon-Hunting Lineage. He keeps similar things in his cabinet.”

Richard opened the second package.

Inside were two pitch-black shadow eater scales.

“Shadow eater scales.” Wentworth examined both sets of items.

“Both are fine materials.”

“I want to get them processed. Into two different things.”

Richard nudged the two materials toward him.

“For the Soul-Gnawer canines, I want them made into casting mediums.

“The canines themselves are hard enough, and they're excellent ether conductors.”

He gently spun one of the teeth on the desk.

“I'd like an artisan to craft them into three needle-like tools.

“The base of the tooth can serve as a small hilt to grip between the fingers, inscribed with basic channeling runes to guide the ether to the tip.”

This was his plan ever since acquiring the Soul-Gnawer teeth. Once finished, they could replace standard Silver Needles as the casting medium for his [Moon Nail].

Their piercing power would far exceed standard Silver Needles, and their etheric lethality would be greater, too.

Their durability would be vastly superior as well; ordinary Silver Needles became useless after just a few strikes.

Needles crafted from these canines could be reused thousands of times.

Of course, he would still use standard Silver Needles on allies... if a Soul-Gnawer tooth was driven into flesh, the wound wouldn't heal for quite a while.

Wentworth turned the teeth over.

“Good idea. That move you pulled last time was a [Moon Nail], right? I'll report your request.”

He offered no further opinion. “Whether they can actually make it will depend on the artisan's craftsmanship.

“According to your request, three canines for three needles.”

“Yes.”

“And the second?” Wentworth shifted his gaze to the two scales.

Richard rested his fingertips on the scales.

When hunting, an evil creature like a shadow eater would create an intense light field, casting incredibly deep shadows of its targets onto the ground.

The shadow eater used that blinding light to stretch its target's shadow to the absolute maximum before seizing the chance to devour it.

The scales on its body served to reflect that intense light. Each scale acted like a convex mirror, firmly locking the light field around the creature.

He voiced his request:

“Is it possible to use the properties of the shadow eater scales to make a Light Storage Device?”

Wentworth nodded. “That's generally all shadow eater scales are good for. They aren't sturdy enough to be used as armor.”

“I've heard that Manchester produces similar Light Source Instruments.

“The finished product is about the size of a pocket watch, with a silver casing. The inside is inlaid with these shadow eater scales or similar reflective materials.

“When fully charged, it can release light equivalent to a gas wall lamp in a pitch-black environment. The duration... won't exceed half a minute.”

Richard's eyes lit up.

Half a minute was enough.

[Shadow Armor] took at most a dozen seconds to cast. As long as he had light for those few seconds, it was enough.

“I'll list both of these requests.” Wentworth picked his pen back up. “I'll send them off to Manchester tomorrow morning.”

“What level of artisan is needed to make these two items?”

Richard was a little worried that the cost might be too high.

“The canines only need minor alterations; it's very simple,” Wentworth replied as he wrote. “An ordinary artisan will do.

“Making a Light Storage Device from the scales is a bit more intricate, but a veteran artisan at the Senior Practitioner level can handle it.”

“What about the fee?”

Wentworth set his pen down and looked up.

“We'll go through the Branch Office's internal processing channels.

“For the basic alteration of the canines, the labor cost is calculated by adding the crafting fee to the inscription fee.

“There are no extra material costs—silver plating at most. Altogether, three or four pounds will cover it.

“The Light Storage Device will be a bit more expensive since it involves reverse processing and fine mechanical structures, plus some extra material costs. Around twelve pounds.”

“The Branch Office conventionally subsidizes half, so you'll be paying around eight pounds out of pocket.”

Richard did some mental math.

He still had some prize money left from the Cicero Cup, along with the tutoring fees and field subsidies he'd managed to save up bit by bit.

The cash he currently had on hand, even after frequently subsidizing the household expenses, was still over thirty pounds.

Eight pounds wouldn't break the bank.

“That works. About how long will it take to arrive after they're finished?”

“Two weeks.”

Wentworth finished filling out the requisition form and signed his name.

“Leave the canines and scales here. I'll send them out tomorrow morning with an internal expedited notice.

“Once they're done, Manchester will ship them back to Briston via the internal private line, and I'll notify you to come pick them up.”

Richard solemnly handed the items over.

“Thank you.”

Wentworth added the form to the stack of files on the right side of his desk.

“It's all on the public account, no need to thank me.”

Richard pushed the door open and left, hugging his leather case as he headed downstairs.

By the time he got back home, it was already three in the afternoon.

His sister was sprawled over the kitchen table, drawing her 'Mr. Rabbit.'

“What do you want for dinner?” His mother, Margaret, poked her head in from the living room.

“Whatever's fine. I'm not picky.”

“Oatmeal again, then,” Evelyn said without even looking up.

“...How about something else?” Richard paused in his tracks.

“You just said you weren't picky.”

“...I've changed my mind.”