Construction Mage - Chapter 51: Bracing

AN: We're back for a new week! Apologies for no extra chapter over the weekend, couldn't resist the first one since the launch period is over. With that said, the normal schedule for Patreon is now Monday-Friday, 5x a week, not including extra chapters from what I owe over at RR. It is experimental, so it may be more 4.5 chapters a week if I can't keep up. Thank you for bearing with me.

Hope you all have a great week!

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“So this is the thing you plan to present to a member of the white-haired family?” Thalia said coldly as she scrutinized the toilet that Clay had carried back into her home. “And what is this about you planning to ask for a favor? Do you have any idea who you are dealing with here?”

Clay’s eyes snapped to his friend, full of hurt and disbelief. In response, Garrick shrugged.

“You never said it was a secret. It just came out as we were talking.”

“Who told me isn’t something you should be worrying about!” Thalia sternly interrupted. “You have to realize that a prince is a very different type of existence compared to whatever small-time lord who managed your village. You can’t just ask them for a favor just because you did something for them. What in the goddess’s name made you think it was a good idea? Have you thought it through first?!”

Being confronted so directly, Clay looked down and sighed as he gathered his words. Despite the tension, his two friends simply waited.

“I didn’t plan this on a whim. I looked into it a little. The royal family has barely any control over territories outside the capital. They don’t have any real power here, and what I need from the Third Prince is just his name. It may even improve his reputation, which isn’t a bad deal for an unfavored member of the royal family.”

Hearing his justification, Thalia massaged her brows as she slowly sat down at the dining table. She poured herself a cup of water from the kettle and took a sip before turning her gaze back on her naive friend.

“You’re oversimplifying things, Clay,” she spoke with calm certainty, but her words carried unexpected weight. “You can’t just think of the royal family as being weak just because they can’t send soldiers here that easily anymore. There are many moving parts in play. Many factions among the nobles who support them or go against them.”

Compelled by her sincere tone, Clay took a seat across from her.

“What I need from him shouldn’t be something that affects politics that much, and I doubt he is that involved in those power games, either. He’s known to be aloof, after all.”

“A member of the royal family always matters. Your favor has something to do with this guild you’re planning, right?”

“How did you know—”

“Forget about that for now. Let me continue,” Thalia said as she took another sip from her cup. “Anything involving Delvers will be carefully scrutinized. The royal family may lead the largest faction in the country, but that also means their rivals will take note of every move they make. Do you even know who their rivals are? It’s the traditionalists led by Duke Rainmere. They are vehemently opposed to commoners gaining power through the dungeons, so you will have to be mindful of them Also, the lord of Ravenhold is known to be neutral amongst the nobility, but that doesn’t mean he won’t see your actions as a threat to his control over his territory if you don’t do things correctly.

“Your only saving grace is that the royal family is in favor of commoner Delvers, as it is one of the best excuses gifted to them from The Descent to stop their dependence on certain corrupt noblemen to keep the country intact.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to need the prince’s full support. Not just in name. That means being able to identify how your proposal can benefit him and how to convince him that it’s worth the risks and effort. I don’t know the details of what you have in store for forming a guild for Delvers, but they need to be convincing enough for the prince to get involved. You need to ask yourself how your guild can help the prince and the country, too. Nobles love a good pretext as well.”

The older woman had suddenly dropped a flurry of information in a reprimanding tone, but Clay didn’t mind it. He could hear the worry in her voice. That’s why he then didn’t hesitate to share his plans, going over the merits of his proposed Adventurers’ Guild while Garrick just listened on and brought refreshments every so often. The three talked late into the night—at least in the world’s standard.

***

“Come on and pick already. Neither of us has any time to waste,” Garrick complained.

He couldn’t bear watching Clay being so indecisive in the tradesman’s shop. While it was true that there were half a dozen options for cabinets and even some high-quality bed frames meant for the wealthy, it shouldn’t be something that would take the entire morning to decide.

“Hmm, now that I have some money to spare, I don’t have to pick the cheapest option anymore. Just give me another minute.”

“The minutes add up, you know? You still have to pick out some suitable clothes before heading out to see the prince.”

Breathing in deeply, Clay slowly nodded and relented. 

“You’re right. This set works, I guess.” He pointed to one of the light brown wooden cabinets.

The two then continued the shopping trip, picking up a proper mattress and clothes before they parted. Garrick had the worksite to tend to while Clay rendezvoused with Malik. He met the young man outside the Delver enclosure, carefully guarding something wrapped in thick canvas.

“Sir, you’re finally here! You–ahh, look different,” Malik gingerly said as he looked over his employer.

Clay was now wearing formal clothes with layers and lots of frills on the sleeves. What he bought had been second-hand, likely passed down from some merchant who had been in decline. The materials weren’t the best, but it was in the proper style of what high society expected.

“Thanks for waiting. Let’s start moving, shall we?”

“Umm, are you sure it’s okay for me to go dressed like this? If you had told me a day earlier that we’ll be entering the first ring, I could have gotten something better.”

Clay doubted that was true, considering the boy’s financial situation, but simply patted his shoulder.

“It’s fine. You’re just there to help me carry things; there shouldn’t be any problems.”

Slowly nodding at his words, the two men began gently picking up the canvas-wrapped item and strode through the second ring toward the gates leading to the first. The closer they got, the more affluent the nearby establishments became. While the rest of the second ring was already quite luxurious, it was just in the sense of using better construction materials or being slightly larger. The residences near the gate to the first ring were in a completely different ballpark.

Fenced estates soon became the norm, and foot traffic died down as carriages replaced it. The most eye-catching thing was the cleanliness of the streets and the increased number of guards on patrol. While the stench couldn’t be completely eradicated, it wasn’t as offensive anymore, faintly existing in the background instead. A complicated mix of other smells worked to mask and dilute it.

Numerous onlookers in the area began giving strange looks at the two Delvers, who didn’t look like they belonged. That went twice for Malik, as what he was wearing was barely better than rags. Thankfully, the item he was carrying was tall, blocking the view of any unfriendly gazes.

The two stopped only when they arrived at the gate to the first ring. Unlike the other gates, a moat and a sturdy drawbridge divided the rings. The guards present seemed much more menacing as well, wearing a variety of Delver gear instead of the guards’ standard issue. The only time they had seen similarly equipped guards was from the company defending the dungeon enclosure.

“Halt! State your business,” one of the two guards on their side of the drawbridge called out.

“I am a Delver by the name of Clay. I’m here to deliver an item ordered by the Third Prince.”

The guards raised their face helms and looked at each other, revealing their scarred faces. The one who had spoken raised an eyebrow as he turned back to the two Delvers.

“We were not told about this. You’ll have to wait while we send someone to confirm your claims.”

And so they did.

Clay and Malik were led off to the side, toward a guardhouse, where they surprisingly found a well-furnished waiting room. The decorations and silver mugs off to the side made it clear this was a place meant for nobility, but they were still led there anyway.

Must be the rumors working in my favor for once. Everyone always whispers about the antics of the prince. If this is the case, the wait likely won’t be long.

Clay was right.

Within thirty minutes, a man burst into the room, causing the guards by the doors to straighten their posture. He wore exquisite clothing that had the same crest as the prince’s embroidered onto his chest. Standing with perfect posture, he gave Clay and Malik a look over before speaking.

“You are Clay, correct? Please follow me.”

Without another word, the man turned on his heels and boarded a carriage that was markedly less extravagant than the one the prince had used. Nevertheless, it was still a level above what he had seen in the second ring.

Carefully carrying their canvas-wrapped item aboard, the vehicle began to move as an awkward silence permeated the cabin. The two Delvers didn’t know what to say, as the man seemed uninterested in speaking to them. He kept his expression stern and eyes forward.

Under this tension, the carriage rode past the drawbridge and into the first layer. For the first time, Clay laid his eyes on the most affluent part of the city.

Just as the two country bumpkins were inching closer to the window for a better view, their guide cut them off by poking his head through the window. He glanced back at where they had come before settling back in his seat.

“Good, they’re all gone,” he said with undisguised relief as his posture slackened. “Now then, Mr. Stratton. Would you be so kind as you give me a glimpse of what you have prepared?”

For a split second, Clay just stared at the man as he recoiled from the sudden shift in demeanor. He barely managed to mutter a word in time to avoid seeming rude.

“Um, sure.”

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