Chapter 609: Selection Ceremony (1)
Was Lennok’s calm demeanor, despite knowing he was handling evidence from an incident caused by an influential figure’s child, truly unexpected?
The old man, who had maintained a solemn attitude moments ago, seemed to momentarily relax.
“The political situation in Machina is truly chaotic.”
The old man tapped the table, muttering.
“Those who should be leading the city under the strict Iron Rule are now being ground down, scrambling to clean up spilled failures and mistakes.”
“Committee Member.”
The attendant standing behind him immediately tried to dissuade him, but the old man paid no mind.
Was it self-deprecation from an Ex Machina Committee Member, lamenting that even he had to run errands to cover up the misdeeds of a higher authority?
For someone whose secret had been so blatantly exposed to Lennok, the old man didn’t seem particularly interested in covering it up.
“I don’t yet know if you possess outstanding skill as an artisan.”
The old man’s eyes gleamed sharply.
“But your intuition, to grasp and penetrate the essence of a situation, is second to none among all I’ve seen.”
“……”
“And a person with such keen analytical abilities would, at the very least, not cause me to lose face at the Selection Ceremony.”
“In that case…?”
The old man looked at Lennok, then lightly motioned to the attendant standing behind him.
The cool-faced woman drew something from her waist and held it out to Lennok.
A driver with an impressive jade-green handle.
It was primarily shaped for tightening and loosening screws, but its blade was sharp enough to be used as a knife if needed.
“……What is this?”
“It’s an item distributed to everyone participating in the Meister Selection Ceremony,” the old man said, nodding to Lennok.
“It’s a form of accreditation, you could say, for participating in the ceremony.”
“……”
Was it fitting for a ceremony selecting Meisters that their qualifications were issued in the form of a tool? Instead of adding a comment, Lennok quietly took the driver and put it into his pocket.
“Come to think of it, we haven’t properly introduced ourselves yet.”
The old man said, extending his hand slightly.
“Geldrich Langmuir. I’ve served as a committee member of Ex Machina’s Supreme Council for twenty years.”
“Lyman.”
Lennok, using the name Isabella had prepared for him, met his hand and shook it.
Langmuir firmly held Lennok’s hand and spoke solemnly.
“From now on, you will represent the Machine Head faction at the Selection Ceremony. However, this must never be publicly known, so be careful in your conduct to avoid any unfavorable rumors.”
“Understood.”
The phrase “representing the Machine Head faction” didn’t feel real, but it was unavoidable if it was a measure to allow him to participate in the Selection Ceremony.
Since he didn’t know much about the Machine Head faction to begin with, Lennok didn’t attach much significance to the faction itself.
“Are there other artisans from the same faction participating besides me?”
“Of course. But you won’t have occasion to interact with them,” Langmuir replied.
“All the artisans participating in the Selection Ceremony are highly proud and renowned. They might even be displeased to be participating alongside an artisan of unclear origin like yourself.”
“……”
“What, have you already lost confidence?”
“No, rather…”
Lennok shook his head as he spoke.
“I was merely wondering what circumstances could be so urgent as to require an artisan like me to participate in the Selection Ceremony, even knowing that.”
“……”
Langmuir fell silent at Lennok’s blunt answer, which didn’t even bother to hide his suspicion of the Machine Head faction.
The old man let out a hollow laugh, then leaned towards Lennok with a serious expression and said, “You have good nerve. You’re truly too talented to remain merely an artisan.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but…”
“I understand why Agent Isabella recommended you. Would you perhaps consider joining my secretarial office?”
“……”
He hadn’t expected to be scouted here so suddenly, but Lennok bowed his head slightly.
“For now, I intend to do my best in the upcoming Selection Ceremony.”
When Lennok responded appropriately, emphasizing the artisan’s dedication, the old man nodded, seemingly understanding.
While Lennok’s demonstration had somewhat excited him, he too must have been in a position where he couldn’t forget his original objective.
After Lennok left, Langmuir spoke to the attendant who remained, silently cleaning up the remains of the crumpled pistol.
“His name was Lyman, wasn’t it?”
“Records show he went missing for several years and recently returned to the city. Should I dig deeper?”
Langmuir immediately nodded at the attendant’s question.
“He’s sharp enough to immediately uncover the full story of the Governor-General’s son’s murder case. There’s plenty of room to use him, even if not as an artisan.”
“……”
“The Selection Ceremony is in a few days. Let’s observe how he performs there and then decide if we should give him an important role later.”
Thump, thump, thump!
A grand drumbeat, rumbling deeply like a blow to the gut.
Lennok stood silently in the center of a colossal stadium, where lights flashed incessantly.
In his hand was only a single driver, small enough to be held with one hand.
The appearances of the people around him varied, but they all held a single driver and stood with a somewhat indifferent expression, just like Lennok.
A mechanical announcement echoed rapidly from the speakers hanging from the stadium ceiling.
[This year again, we have gathered skilled artisans from across the Machine City in one place.]
Thump, thump, thump!
The drumbeats continued in quick succession. No one in the stadium spoke.
Most closed their eyes calmly, took deep breaths, or focused their minds, as if awaiting what was to come.
The announcement continued without waiting for a reaction.
[Three Meisters have passed away in the maintenance, modification, and creation categories. Therefore, this ceremony will verify qualifications by summing scores across these three fields.]
Clank!
The stadium wall opened, revealing a colossal display case, hundreds of meters long.
Inside the vast display case, filling the enormous space, were countless small piles of components and broken pieces of equipment.
[In the creation, modification, and maintenance categories, each participant will make one selection and present their result to be scored. The completed products will be donated for the residents of the Machine City, so we ask everyone to exert their best efforts for the city’s development.]
‘Is this a form of volunteer work? Clever.’
Most skilled artisans were either expensive or had stringent conditions for taking on work.
Was this a way to gather such artisans for the Meister Selection Ceremony and create a pretext for borrowing their talents almost for free?
[As you all know, regardless of the Meister title, those who achieve good scores in the Selection Ceremony will be awarded certificates of various grades for five years. We wish you all the best, and now, let us begin.]
‘There’s almost no unnecessary pomp and circumstance. Perhaps that’s fitting for an event for artisans.’
Just like the artisans Lennok had met in the great city, whether it was a prejudice or not, people who worked with equipment tended to have peculiar personalities.
Bringing such individuals together, the Selection Ceremony was concise and proceeded quickly, despite its scale and importance.
“It’s finally starting. I was itching to death.”
“I still don’t understand why we all need to gather like this and waste time.”
Simultaneously with the announcement, the artisans grumbled and began to move.
Lennok followed them, observing the components and broken equipment placed inside the display case.
The piles of components and equipment were separated, and the display cases holding equipment each had a small score sheet attached.
‘The component piles are for the creation category, and the equipment has score sheets for modification or maintenance.’
This meant that there was no upper limit to the score for creation, but the scores for modification or maintenance were fixed.
It wasn’t strange to give higher scores for creating something entirely new than for modifying an existing item.
However, it seemed quite clear that Lennok, who was practically a novice in the creation field, couldn’t expect a high score there.
Clang, clang, clang!
In one corner, some artisans were already occupying a vacant workbench and hammering iron.
Lennok was about to pass them when he realized the tools they were using to hammer the iron were drivers, and he stopped.
It was a peculiar scene: artisans silently hammering iron with a thin driver, imbued with mana.
“What are you making?”
After being ignored by several artisans busily working nearby, one finally glanced up and responded.
“You’re young. Looks like it’s your first Selection Ceremony.”
“Yes.”
“An artisan needs tools to work, doesn’t he? I’m making a hammer and tongs.”
“……”
Only then did Lennok realize the immense importance of the driver he had been given, and his mouth fell open slightly.
“So… I have to create all the necessary tools myself, using only this one driver, and then participate in the Selection Ceremony?”
“You catch on fast.”
“……Isn’t this effectively not testing an artisan’s skill?”
Having to hammer iron with a single driver and create all the necessary equipment himself? This seemed less like a stage to test an artisan’s ability and more like a gimmick one would see on a variety show.
But the artisan shook his head, as if accustomed to Lennok’s question.
“They say that originally, the Selection Ceremony fairly distributed standardized tools.”
“Then why now…?”
“Complaints about the tools being unsatisfactory came in every ceremony from artisans, so the rules were revised to allow them to make their own instead.”
“……”
Speechless, Lennok stared blankly up at the stadium lights.
So, because artisans were excessively particular about the standards and preferences of their equipment, the rules changed to make them craft their own tools?
It was an utterly preposterous reason, yet, in a way, it wasn’t entirely incomprehensible.
Even Lennok himself had always paid meticulous attention to the fine-tuning of his firearms and artifacts.
The artisan, seemingly believing he had explained everything, ignored Lennok and returned to focusing on making his tools.
Clang, clang!
He used the driver like a carving tool, hammering and shaving the iron, eventually shaping it into a plausible hammer and blade.
Lennok didn’t leave the artisan’s side, watching him, then spoke as if a thought had just occurred to him.
“You should switch the hand holding the equipment to your left hand.”
“……What?”
The artisan looked up at Lennok as if he were insane, but Lennok ignored him and continued to explain.
“Your left hand’s grip strength seems stronger than your right. Wouldn’t it be better to switch the hand holding the equipment to the stronger grip?”
“Hey, young man, what do you know about my metallurgy to….”
“It seems you’ve suffered a major injury to your right foot at some point.”
“……”
The artisan, who had been about to retort with an annoyed expression, looked dumbfounded by Lennok’s next words.
Lennok looked down at the artisan’s shoe and said, “The angle of your foot supporting you next to the workbench is excessively twisted, and you’re rotating your knee to maintain your posture. Since your toes don’t bear enough weight, you’re unnaturally pushing power into your heel.”
“……I had a major injury three years ago. But how did you…?”
“If you sustained an injury despite the presence of a footrest, it’s highly likely you dropped the equipment on your own foot. That’s evidence that your right hand’s grip strength isn’t sufficient.”
Lennok looked at the artisan’s hands as he spoke, leaving the artisan speechless.
“Even with mana, if your grip strength isn’t enough, wouldn’t it be best to switch the hand you’re using?”
“……”
“If you’re hammering iron without proper strength in your foot, the refining won’t go as you wish either. If you want to achieve good results in the Selection Ceremony now, you’ll have to switch your supporting foot and the hand you’re using.”
“……That’s not something you can just speak about lightly. How can I change a lifelong habit overnight?”
The artisan, who had seemed to be drawn in and persuaded by Lennok’s words, suddenly snapped out of it and shook his head emphatically.
“Thank you for the advice, but that’s enough. I have work to do.”
“No, I think there’s a good solution.”
Lennok said that, then picked up a piece of an old mirror from a nearby display case and propped it up diagonally in front of the artisan.
The mirror reflected the entire body of the somewhat sullen-looking artisan.
As the artisan looked at Lennok with an uncomfortable expression, Lennok secretly infused mana into the mirror.
Kiiiing…!!
“Ugh…”
The artisan stumbled momentarily from the ringing in his ears, then looked down at both his hands with a strange expression.
“Wait, wait a minute…? This is?”
“Human sensation is based on perception as strong as reality. That’s why we believe non-existent sensations exist and feel pain through them,” Lennok explained.
“When treating phantom pain, we sometimes induce sensory confusion through mirrors to alleviate the pain. While standing in front of this mirror, your sensations will feel as if they’ve been inverted left to right.”
In reality, Lennok had also cast a simple self-suggestion on the artisan, but since he wasn’t revealing his true identity as a wizard, he didn’t mention it.
The artisan, realizing that his body’s balance felt much more comfortable after re-gripping the driver with his left hand, fell silent.
Only then did the artisan realize why Lennok had placed the mirror in front of him, and he looked at Lennok with an astonished expression.
“I see. So, this means I can use my left hand, but feel as if I’m using my right hand?”
“Since the strength of your left arm and the grip strength of your left hand are different, you’ll have to adjust the finer details yourself, but I don’t think that will be difficult.”
“……Why are you doing this for me?” the artisan asked with a serious face.
“It’s far too much for just telling me the rules of the competition. No, I’ve never even heard of an artisan who could give this kind of advice.”
“Of course, I’m not helping you without expecting anything in return,” Lennok said, shaking the driver in his hand.
“I’m not very skilled at making things or working with iron.”
“……No way?”
“Would you be willing to make the tools I’ll use for the Selection Ceremony instead?”
In the Meister Selection Ceremony, there were no rules or restrictions other than submitting results in three categories within the given time.
Was it to thoroughly evaluate the abilities of artisans with unique talents and qualities?
From the moment he realized he had to craft his own tools for the Selection Ceremony, Lennok had no intention of doing the crafting himself.
His method for leveraging his strengths in the Selection Ceremony had been decided from the start: choose an artisan grappling with a problem, offer consultation, and find a solution for them.