Chapter 1

Ix felt a twinge of emptiness as he left the shop. The feeling was perfectly understandable, but it nevertheless surprised him. As if drawn in by the emotion, he turned back toward the entrance. It was empty inside. Old shelves lined the walls. The furniture in the back room and on the second floor had been left behind. If the next resident needed them, they were welcome to help themselves. Otherwise, they could break down the furnishings for firewood. Ix wondered if a buyer would ever show up. This was a declining village in the middle of the mountains, after all. But he’d be in quite the predicament if no one purchased it. His adoptive father was now gone, and Ix had no job lined up in his absence. The little money he had to his name could cover his living expenses for the time being, but not much else. A ray of light shone into the shop through the slightly cracked door, illuminating the swirling dust. Suddenly, Ix recalled his teacher’s coarse voice. “Do you know what happens to your body after you die in Marayist scripture?” asked the man, withered like an old tree. He lay on a pallet bed on the floor, his face turned toward Ix as he desperately tried to string words together. He was certain he would die when his words stopped coming. “They say your soul exits from your mouth, then soars up to heaven—was that it?” said the man. “That’s right.” Ix nodded indifferently. “Hmph, I don’t believe that drivel. The world isn’t, hmm, isn’t so convenient.” “So what happens when you die, then?” “I’ll turn to dust.” “Dust?” “Living things expand when they die. Get so huge you can’t see ’em. And they grow so light, so weightless, that they turn to dust and scatter all over.” The man spoke in a single breath before letting out a cough that was like a breeze passing through trees. “Floating about sounds nice and carefree.” “Carefree, huh?” His teacher’s lips trembled. “And what’s left after that? A half-baked craftsman like you? How’s that reassuring?” “You’ve got plenty of other excellent apprentices.” “Ah, no. No, no. There’s no hope for them and wandmaking. What a disaster for my clientele…” His voice gradually faded. Then his breathing finally slowed, and he nodded off. As his death drew nearer, the old man alternated between lengthy rests and delirious ramblings. His naps grew longer and longer, until one day he didn’t wake again. This had happened a month ago. Ix remembered all this while staring at the dust flitting about inside the room. “So even the legendary wandmaker Munzil turns to dust when he dies?” The words fell from Ix’s tongue before he closed the door. A sign no longer hung outside the shop. The only vestige of the place were the words Putting wands in the right hands carved into the wood of the entrance. Since the shop was located on the edge of the village, Ix managed to leave without passing any other residents. He gently shifted the luggage he carried. It was still early in the morning. The sun was only half visible, just beginning to warm the cool earth. First, he was planning to go to Leirest, a city to the south. Even on foot, he should arrive before sunset. After passing the beast-warding fence, Ix stood at the entrance to the village. Just then, he saw someone he didn’t recognize. A lone figure was trailing up the road that led south. Their whole body was cloaked in a gray coat, face hidden below a hood. Though Ix was about to bid it farewell, this was the village he’d grown up in. Thus, a shred of obligation to his hometown kept him waiting by the gate. He would have to warn everyone if a suspicious character was coming this way. Soon, they stood face-to-face. The other person was about a head shorter than Ix. Their coat was made of fairly high-quality material. Despite their expensive-looking clothing, they didn’t have an attendant to carry their things for them; instead, they’d hoisted a large bag across their back. Everything about this traveler seemed contradictory. Ix couldn’t make out their face beneath the shadow of their hood. For a brief moment, the two figures faced each other in silence. “Um,” came a female voice from beneath the hood. Her voice was somewhat deep. “Is there a wand shop here?” she asked. “A wand shop?” “I’ve been told there was one in this village.” “…Ah.” Ix nodded slightly. I see—she must have come to check it out. Since there was no one in the village to buy the building, they’d sent word of its sale to the towns at the base of the mountains. The woman could be a potential buyer who’d arrived to examine the shop before purchasing, or perhaps she was someone who worked in real estate. Ix couldn’t imagine what value she’d seen in this out-of-the-way location, however… Either way, she was his customer. He should be kind. “Head into the village, and it’ll be the first building you see,” he informed her. “Thank you.” With that, she disappeared into town. “…She going to open a store?” Ix sighed. As much as he didn’t want to, he’d have to start putting himself out there from today on. All he had at the moment were a few coins and his skill as a wandmaker. About twenty years ago, Ix had been abandoned outside that store—Munzil’s wand shop. There hadn’t even been a note left alongside him, just a baby wrapped in rags dumped on the doorstep. It had been snowing that day. Munzil had gone outside to get water when he saw the baby boy, then took him in and raised him by himself. He named the baby Ix, which meant snow. Everyone in town was taken aback. Munzil was a famous craftsman renowned throughout the kingdom for both his peerless wandmaking skills and his stubbornness. No one ever imagined he would pick up a child and, of all things, raise him as his kin. Perhaps he’d seen his own impending death coming. Eventually, that child became Munzil’s last apprentice, as all his others had long since left. Ix had been the only one there when the craftsman had finally passed. Per Munzil’s wishes, they hadn’t held a funeral. The kingdom’s most celebrated wandmaker moved on from this world quietly. His crafting materials and documents had been taken care of before he’d died, and in accordance with his will, the wand shop had been shuttered. He’d disappeared without a trace, as though he were dust in the wind. Now, all that remained of Munzil were tales of his exploits and the apprentices he’d trained… Ix came to a halt. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he looked up to the sky. The sun had reached its zenith. A strong breeze blew up the slope, tousling his hair. He decided to take a break and sat down on the edge of the road. Esne trees continued endlessly into the distance on either side of the path. Their leaves were sharp, and their bark was hard. Since they repelled magic, they weren’t suited for making wands. But they did prevent magic beasts from entering the village. By this same token, many cities had either planted esne forests or constructed fences made from esne wood around their borders. Long ago, this trail had served as the main artery between the cities of the area because it had been cleared out from a naturally occurring esne forest. Apparently, the villages along the road had prospered from travelers stopping there for lodging. However, the construction of Kusa Zuf, the royal highway, about fifty years ago had made the meandering path redundant. The short weeds growing along the road were testament to how few pedestrians it had these days. When Ix stood up from his rest, he heard the rustle of approaching footsteps in the grass. Looking back, he saw the woman from this morning briskly striding toward him. She held her hood with one hand against the wind to keep it in place. She must have finished checking out the shop already. As Ix thought about how busy the merchant world must be, the woman came to a stop before him. Her shoulders were heaving, and her breath was ragged; she’d probably rushed over here. Still out of breath, she shouted, “Why did you lie to me?” Ix was confused. “The location I told you should have been correct.” “The shop is not there anymore!” “The owner died.” “What…? Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?” “You didn’t ask.” “No one at the foothills could tell me whether he was alive or dead. Apparently, there hasn’t been a funeral.” “Unfortunately, there won’t be one. Is that what you came here to confirm?” “No, it’s not!” she shouted, clenching her fists with rage. When she let go of her hood, the wind filled it and pushed it back. Black hair tinged with blue spilled out, followed by brown skin. A decorative earring on her right ear made a metallic jingle. Her young face proved that she was clearly not quite an adult yet. She looked surprised for a moment, but that quickly gave way to anger. “A kid?” muttered Ix to himself. Then he asked her, “Where did you come from?” “The capital.” “All the way in the mountains?” “I wouldn’t be able to get it if I didn’t leave.” “Get what?” Her sharp gaze pierced Ix. She pointed her finger at him. “You, wandmaker.” “You’ve got it all wrong.” “Huh? Are you not Ix?” “I am. Who are you?” “My name is Yuui,” she announced, holding a hand to her chest. “But you really are Ix, correct?” “I am.” “I heard from the villagers. The shop owner died, and his apprentice is heading toward Leirest today.” “Yeah, that’s me, but I’m no wandmaker. I’m not registered with the Guild.” “Huh, uh, what…?” She looked bewildered. She must not have known about the guild system. Based on her appearance, she was probably from the east. Now that he thought about it, he realized her speech did sound somewhat stiff, but she was so fluent in Central Standard, you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t paying close attention. “Falsely claiming to be a craftsman if you’re not registered with the Guild is a crime. As of right now, I’m just an apprentice—except I’m not even that, strictly speaking. No shop would hire me,” he admitted.