I’d been checked for magic when I was five. Not a single one of my three hundred residents possessed any magical capabilities. If one of my citizens were found to be a mage, they’d be sent to the palace in exchange for a lucrative sum of money that would go to their family and the fief. Mages were also treated very well. Even if they’d been born as slaves or commoners, they were bestowed with titles of nobility and became peers for life. They would be the lords of their households. Of course, they would be forced to undergo strict training as mages; no amount of crying or wailing would spare them. I imagined that it was as strict as the knight training that I’d undergone, though I never resented my late mother for that.
In any case, mages were very rare, and as one worked right in front of my eyes, I was eager to speak with her.
“You better not cut this metal plate!” the mage roared. “Keep this intact when you forge the armor, or I’ll kill you! I spent the past goddamn week engraving this sigil without barely sleeping, eating, or taking a crap! Don’t cut this plate! Ya hear me?!”
Whoa, she’s pissed. She’s super pissed.
“A month?!” she screamed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! How the hell can I engrave this entire suit of armor with magic sigils in a month? Wait, if I take the production time into account, I haven’t got two weeks! Screw the Anhaltish royal family! Every person has their limits, and you can’t just wish for the impossible! You know what the issue is here? The freaking production process! And they even want me to do some quality control while I’m exhausted! Do they not know about labor management?!”
This mage is not happy at all. I shouldn’t speak with her. If she blamed me for her current situation, I wouldn’t be able to refute it. No need to stir up the hornet’s nest.
“I’m gonna get some grub!” she roared furiously. “You better have the next plate prepared for me by then!”
The mage stormed off into the distance. I wasn’t even told her name. Well, whatever. It’s not like I’d become involved with mages—they’re so rare.
“She looked super angry,” Martina said.
I nodded. “She sure did.”
To be honest, that mage had every right to be. Creating an entire suit of Maximilian armor complete with enchantments within a month was an absurd request. But everyone had no choice but to begrudgingly follow the crown princess’s orders. I felt bad that I was the cause of all this mess, but there was nothing I could do. Armor was the formal attire of military officers in Villendorf, and I couldn’t let them underestimate me. I basically had to get a lavish suit tailored so that I could negotiate peace. If a mere suit of armor would increase the likelihood of peace, it was a small price to pay. No doubt Princess Anastasia thought the same. All I could do was thank the smiths and mages dragged into this mess for their hard work. I expelled a deep sigh.
“I’d wanted to ask a few questions to the mage too,” I muttered.
“May I ask what your queries are?” Ingrid inquired.
She looked at me quizzically, and I answered truthfully.
“I wondered if they were like the stories I read,” I replied. “Can a mage manipulate fire, light, and smoke like some sort of master pyrotechnist? Can they wield supernatural elements to vanquish their enemies?”
There was a veil of mysticism that surrounded mages, and I wanted to know the power that they wielded. Perhaps they could readily surpass my combat capabilities. Thanks to my cultural background from my past life, I had high hopes for mages. In a sense, I romanticized them as part of this medieval fantasy world.
“As far as I’ve heard, they can’t do anything like that,” Ingrid said. She sounded a touch regretful as she shook her head. “Mages are tasked with creating magical items such as crystal balls for communication, or auxiliary items like bifocals. They also have the role of casting enchantments onto armor, like that woman was doing just now. Unfortunately, you won’t see them wielding supernatural elements to defeat enemies like in fictional tales.”
Ingrid continued, “They wouldn’t be able to hold their own in combat against someone like you, Sir Polidoro. Society calls your kind ‘superhuman.’ But mages are rare. They require magical energy along with knowledge, and they can create communication tools and bifocals that can turn the tide of war. They just don’t have any magical abilities that allow them to fight.”
It was a bit of a disappointment to hear Ingrid’s words. It seemed mages didn’t possess the sort of immense power I’d read about in classic fantasy books in my past life. Even in history books, there was probably no mention of a mage who could singlehandedly take out an army. I’d expected as much, but I was still sad to hear my suspicions confirmed.
This was magic, after all. Somewhere inside me, I still carried a hint of my past life as a modern-day Japanese person. Can you blame me for hoping? I internally made excuses to myself.
“I expected as much, but you’ve confirmed my thoughts,” I said. “It’s a pity.”
I remained honest with Ingrid—I truly did think that it was a pity. The Lord of the Rings was a title that would always hold a place in my heart. Can you blame me? I thought to myself again.
“How’s the Maximilian armor coming along?” I asked.
“Er, I hate to ask, but can we create a bucket helm for your head?” Ingrid asked.
“A bucket?”
If possible, I wanted a helmet that was sharper and more capable of repelling projectiles. This world did have muskets that mercenaries used, though they were still in their primitive stages.
“I believe it’s called a great helm,” Ingrid said. “You might have to wear a chainmail coif on your head underneath it.”
“I wouldn’t want that,” I muttered. “A bucket helm kind of looks lame for a suit of Maximilian armor, don’t you think?”
The helmet would also narrow my field of vision. The biggest advantage to wearing chainmail was the increased field of view along with its light weight, all thanks to the lack of a helmet. The major disadvantages of wearing a great helm were the narrow scope of view and its heavy weight that put pressure on the shoulders and neck. It lowered attack speed as well, though in my case, the weight hardly made a difference.
“To be frank, we simply do not have enough time to forge a complex helmet,” Ingrid said. “And Sir Polidoro, a hero like you has no need for a helmet in combat, I believe. We’ll make that part detachable—after all, isn’t it actually easier for you to fight without a helmet?”
“Not like you’d know,” I replied wearily.
But I couldn’t deny her words. Chainmail had always been more than enough armor for me on the battlefield. Admittedly, though, my duel against Lord Reckenbell had made me yearn for a full suit of armor more than anything else in the world. Hmm, a great helm… If it was detachable, perhaps it was a decent choice.
“Weight is probably the biggest disadvantage of a great helm, but that can easily be solved with enchantments,” Ingrid explained. “I’ve made these choices and adjustments for your sake, and would greatly appreciate it if you could agree with me.”
“All right then,” I said. “I can create a proper Maximilian helmet at a later date, can’t I?”
“Of course,” Ingrid replied. “It can easily be replaced. While you’re off on your journey, I shall have that made.”
If I can exchange it later, I guess it isn’t an issue, though I don’t think I’ll have much use for it. I complied for now and sighed, once again bored to tears. I had Martina to talk to, but she was only a child who needed every act of chivalry explained to her. I stayed in the smithy, seriously contemplating teaching Martina some swordplay skills.