Happiness came too suddenly.
Strider almost couldn't believe it. After more than ten days of preparations, he was finally sitting in the woodworking yard, waiting for his first customer.
The air was filled with the strong scent of wet paint. Normally it was suffocating, but today, Strider found it refreshing.
Finally… someone will buy.
Just as he stood up to admire the chairs for the third time, a voice came from behind.
"We're heading to Duning. I heard cheap furniture is being sold here. Let's take a look…"
The words struck Strider like heavenly music.
He spun around, grinning so wide it hurt his cheeks. "Yes! We've got a newly developed chair here—exquisite style, low price! Care to see one?"
The merchant's eyes locked on the rows of identical chairs behind Strider. His breath caught in his throat.
"One hundred chairs… all the same?" He stepped forward, then froze, hands trembling in mid-air. "By the gods, am I seeing this right?"
There had never been such a thing as mass-produced furniture in this world. Every chair was unique, and nobles often paid huge sums just to have matching sets.
But here? Dozens upon dozens of flawless duplicates, lined up in neat rows.
"How much?" His voice shook.
"Only twenty-five silver coins each." Strider's heart thumped wildly.
He knew the truth. Each chair cost less than half a silver coin to make. He was robbing them blind. But the merchants didn't know that—and Strider didn't care.
"Excellent! I'll take forty!"
The man stroked the smooth arc of the chair legs with trembling hands. His imagination ran wild—presenting such a gift to the nobles in Arante could easily win him a baronship.
Ten gold coins clinked as the merchant's guards dropped the pouch into Strider's strongbox.
Strider's grin widened. Ten gold coins… in one morning.
By the end of the day, ten merchants had come and gone. The strongbox now held seventy gold coins.
For the first time, Strider asked himself a question he had never dared to think about:
How do I even spend this much money?
---
But then—another voice.
"Excuse me… these chairs. Were they all crafted by a special method?"
It belonged to a young man with golden curls, dressed in noble clothes, a dagger at his waist. His delicate features almost made him look like a girl.
He ran his hand across the polished wood, eyes bright with curiosity.
"No carpenter I know could replicate this arc again and again… it feels… unnatural. Beautiful, yes, but strange. There are no words to describe it."
"Sir," Strider cut him off quickly, "if you want one, it's twenty-five silver coins. Cheap and reliable."
The young man smiled faintly. "I've heard. Twenty-five silver coins…" He straightened his back. "My name is Desaiel. Longteite Desaiel."
Strider froze.
Longteite?
He stared at the youth in disbelief. "…You're from the Longteite family?"
"Yes," Desaiel said casually. "I never expected Serris City to surprise me like this. May I see more?"
Strider immediately turned to a guard. "Go fetch Lord Chris. Hurry!"
He stepped aside respectfully. "Please, this way, Young Master."
---
Chris was sketching machinery parts when Deans rushed in.
"My lord," Deans said solemnly, "someone from the Longteite family wishes to see you."
Chris frowned. "Longteite? Who are they supposed to be?"
Deans' expression was grim. "One of the richest and oldest families in the mortal kingdoms. They control food, metal, valuables… even coin minting in some nations. They don't just trade. They dominate."
Chris raised a brow. Then he chuckled. "Interesting. Let's not keep them waiting."
---
By the time Chris arrived, Strider was showing Desaiel the woodworking machines.
Like a child in a grand palace, the young noble examined every detail, even trying one of the machines himself—though he promptly ruined a piece of wood.
Strider wasn't worried. The Longteite family had no need to steal. Their creed was known across the continent:
"The Longteite family only does business. Never robbery."
Whatever they wanted, they bought.
"This is… a masterpiece of invention," Desaiel whispered, eyes gleaming.
Then he noticed Chris entering the workshop. Desaiel straightened, smiling politely.
"You must be Lord Chris. A pleasure to meet you. I am Desaiel of the Longteite family, third son of the house."
Chris nodded. "Serris City welcomes you, Young Master Desaiel."
"My apologies for disturbing you," Desaiel said warmly. "I was merely passing through. But when I saw this…" He gestured at the machinery. "I knew I had to stop."
Chris chuckled. "It is worth stopping for."
Desaiel hesitated, then asked slowly: "Could this model… be applied elsewhere? To other trades? Forgive me—I can hardly describe the change this technology brings."
"I understand," Chris said with a calm smile. "And yes—it can be applied anywhere. Even to replace backward looms."
---
📖 To be continued…