Chapter 5
"Master."
Wilson kept his head bowed. Ian smiled casually.
"You've done nothing wrong. Why lower your head?"
"But..."
"I won't ask why you didn't report to me. I already know."
Ian hadn't summoned him for reprimand. There were matters to clarify.
"Sit first. Don't just stand there."
"Forgive my presumption."
Wilson perched awkwardly on the sofa. Though discomfited by the sight, Ian pressed on.
"You organized Father's lab before, correct?"
"Yes. I handled the organization."
"Did any contracts surface during that time?"
"No."
The immediate answer reflected Wilson's confidence in his work.
"Let me rephrase. From Father's departure to the ruins until his disappearance - did you collect all documents from the lab?"
"That... no."
Ian's eyes gleamed.
"Meaning there was another."
"There existed someone with lab access until the late Master's disappearance."
"Who?"
"Someone you've met occasionally, Master. Frederick. He served as the late Master's assistant."
"Ah. Mr. Frederick? I recall."
Memories surfaced of a diligent man who'd never visited the estate after Ian's parents vanished.
"What's Frederick doing now?"
"He operates a general store in the royal capital. Quite an establishment."
"If contracts went missing from the lab, how likely is his involvement?"
"He was honorable. While I doubt tampering, his experience as lab assistant might grant contract knowledge."
Wilson remained neutral. Like Ian, he favored trusting human decency.
Yet outright accusations contradicted noble conduct, especially towards someone with shared history.
Ian compartmentalized the thought. More pressing matters demanded attention:
'Inheriting contracts means debt repayment - principal and substantial interest.'
The payments themselves mattered little. If forgery could be proven, they'd reclaim payments plus thirtyfold compensation - the legal minimum.
'But time is needed. Both to expose the contract's truth and secure immediate funds.'
Ideas flickered through his mind, all inadequate for their current financial demands. Yet Ian persisted, mental gears grinding until-
'The Academy! That method might work.'
A viable hypothesis formed. Now required proof through action. Ian sprang from his seat.
"Master! Where are you going?!"
"Where else? To the Academy."
As Ian strode through the foyer, Wilson bowed deeply.
"Master..."
"Don't worry. I'll handle this."
Ian raised a hand, silencing concerns. This wasn't about vague suspicions of conspiracy - it concerned family honor and his father's legacy.
"How much have we repaid Hamel Merchant Group?"
"Nothing yet. The sum isn't insignificant..."
"Good. I'll take full control of this matter. Contact me immediately if Felix visits. Report anything unusual."
Wilson maintained his bow, anxiety lingering in his features.
"I'm not the fool you take me for."
The unadorned carriage departed swiftly. Only when the estate faded did Ian find mental clarity.
'First Academy registration. Then proper planning when repayment demands arrive.'
A peculiar sensation interrupted his thoughts - the glasses case.
The artifact's mystery resurfaced as Ian examined it anew. Throughout the journey, he wore the glasses observing nothing extraordinary.
The capital's spring scenes unfolded normally: citizens in light garments, children playing in plazas. No illusions - just mundane peace.
Reluctantly, Ian stored the glasses away, though not without observations:
'Surprisingly sturdy. Perfectly comfortable. Perhaps practical for regular use?'
His father's analytical legacy surfaced. Though burdened by the heirloom's significance, curiosity about its true nature grew.
'After settling in, I'll analyze its magic properly. If it's an artifact, there must be reactive elements.'
Most magical artifacts took forms like staves or books. Neither parent required vision correction, making glasses' existence puzzling.
'Artifacts require active use. Like swords needing swings, glasses need wearing.'
This realization eased Ian's reluctance about using them.
CLUNK!
The carriage slowed. Beyond the window stretched an astonishing procession - opulent noble transports mingling with humble vehicles, all equalized upon passing the Academy gates per Sun King Lux's decree.
Disembarking under harsh sunlight, Ian surveyed the grand administrative building. His parents' alma mater - known only through their stories, now his destination.
"Once enrolled, leaving won't be simple. I'll notify you of any excursions."
"Understood, young master. Take care."
As the coachman withdrew, Ian straightened his attire. A commotion erupted behind him.
CRASH!
"Aaaagh!"
"Disaster!"
A collapsed cart spilled shattered equipment. Workers paled as an Academy staffer raged:
"You incompetent fools! This was Professor Frost's crucial experimental apparatus!"
Ian approached, sighing internally. The workers weren't at fault for the broken wheel.
Simultaneously, a black-robed figure approached from the opposite side - a petite girl with lemon-yellow hair escaping her hood, clutching a second-year mage's staff.
Pausing to observe, she watched Ian address the furious attendant:
"What's occurring here?"
"N-nothing requiring your attention, sir! Our apologies for the disturbance!"
Mistaking Ian for visiting nobility, the attendant bowed hastily.
"Perhaps I can assist? This seems troublesome."
"You'd help...?"
Ian examined the wreckage. 'Less damaged than appears.'
Most components were standard issue. With tools, repairs would be manageable.
"Fetch tools and I'll reassemble it. Won't take long."
"Truly? But..."
The attendant finally registered Ian's lack of Academy uniform.
"Might I inquire your name and house?"
"Ian of House Oracle. Here for enrollment with time to spare. I've handled numerous experimental devices, particularly those measuring mana transfer efficiency."
The attendant's eyes widened. "You there! Bring all tools the young master requires! Immediately!"
As workers scrambled, Ian knelt beside the components. The black-robed observer maintained her silent vigil, staff glinting in sunlight.
