Chapter 91
Flange Orphanage, City: Three Prongs Fork, Republic of Shantu, Continent: Barat, the Year 2031, Planet: Grimoire
Unfortunately, even after the competition ended, Grifton wasn't able to do anything to make his situation any easier, either. Also, the information he'd relayed about what he'd overheard to people Grifton thought he could trust was dismissed as hearsay.
Not long afterward, just as Grifton suspected, Director Moline's departure caused over half of the former employees to choose to leave with him. His destination was the fledging republic, as yet unnamed.
The few employees who remained were treated very poorly, and in their anger, they took out their frustrations on the foundlings who'd gotten fewer benefits out of the competition than anticipated. Embezzlement and petty theft have become all too common lately.
Grifton's only solace was when he wandered the orchards as a team. When he remained in the company of Denby's team, he didn't have to worry about getting beaten up for the venial of reasons any of the staff and instructors could come up with.
Denby noticed his somberness. "How are you doing, kiddo?" He watched Grifton with concern.
Grifton shrugged. "Not so great. I'm keeping up with my studies and everything else. However, the instructors have changed again." He gave a few examples, and the team members grimaced.
"Yeah, we've been hearing rumors floating around." Denby shook his head. "I'll admit, I'm not too keen on remaining here much longer." His arms folded. "If there was some way to contact Moline, I would. However, I fear we won't remain independent for much longer."
Grifton's mouth thinned. "Yeah, I'm not sure what to think either." He admitted wearily. "I'm more concerned that more magicians are being conscripted, regardless of the age limit."
Denby nodded sourly. "Yeah, again, not exactly what should happen in a republic."
"Yeah, that isn't the only thing that has ground to a halt." Grifton frowned because all outside internships had dried up when it came to artisan creativity. "So far, I haven't been hassled about making weapons, but I reckon it is only a matter of time before someone remembers what I can do." All efforts turned to making armor, weaponry, and other wartime supplies.
Denby shook his head. "You should just try remaining under the radar for as long as possible, kiddo."
Grifton nodded. "Oh, I'm doing my best." It hadn't taken long for the fame of the foundlings to fade away with time.
Also, all the borders conflicted with neighboring kingdoms and empires that sought to take over Shantu and absorb it into their territory.
So far, that hadn't happened, but Grifton was losing faith in the system. He'd yet to see any sign of improvement in the annual competition that gave Flange Orphanage so much prestige. "I'm beginning to wonder if it's worth keeping my ranking high in that stupid competition."
Denby grunted. "It is almost that time again?"
"Yes," Grifton growled. "I haven't heard from my cousins lately. It has been about six months, too."
Denby looked alarmed. "That isn't good." He glanced at his team members. "Have any of you got relatives in similar groups with his cousins?"
Morton frowned, and the others shook their heads. "Nah, most of them actually retired already," Morton admitted. "I can check with the newest generation, though."
Grifton exhaled. "The reputation has tanked since the new Director came into the Orphanage. I'm surprised that you've remained when most others haven't." He regarded them. "So why have you stayed on?"
Denby and the others shrugged. "We did resume our former artisan occupations part-time to supplement our incomes," Denby admitted.
"We committed to remaining for the ten years Moline requested," Morton added. "It was so that the orchards at least wouldn't suffer from pilfering or sabotage." He glanced at Grifton. "Thanks to the various spells and whatnot you implemented, we can safely leave them untended for the remaining years."
Grifton nodded. "Well, I knew that you all wouldn't be able to stay here forever." He shrugged with a sigh. "My cousins and I were denied in our application to have a party."
Much to Grifton's aggravation and his cousins' frustration, none were allowed to join a party. "The reasoning was that we were too young and didn't have enough practical experience."
Denby shook his head. "Yeah, I heard about that fiasco." He scowled in disbelief. "I can't believe what I heard about some new merchants that suddenly existed."
Yeah, Grifton had his doubts about some of those merchant groups. None of their information was verifiable. "I'm just worried that they're going to be dumped on the frontlines and left to die." He shook his head uneasily.
His cousins were indeed reassigned to a merchant group. Still, it wasn't to Lamberton, but some other one that no one could determine the origin of.
"So that is why you're worried? You haven't heard from them?" Denby frowned.
Grifton nodded. "We all made sure that our devices were working properly, too." A sigh escaped him. It had been six months since I last got anything from them." He shrugged. I'll try again, using a different method, but I'm losing faith."
The three cousins disappeared shortly, and communication was cut off entirely.
Denby grunted. "Let me see what I can do to find out more about those so-called merchant groups," he told Grifton. If I can't, I'll see about setting off alarms that'll launch an investigation."
Grifton frowned but nodded. "All right." He tried to maintain a minimal amount of faith that something would be done, and his cousins wouldn't fall through the cracks of the system.
~*~
Another six months passed, and a new competition was in the Orphanage. There was still no news about his cousins, but Grifton had heard snippets of gossip floating around regarding the new republic. Not only that, but goods began flowing from that place as well. He recognized some peculiarities in a few of the designs, and that confirmed his cousins were alive.
"Take a look at this." Grifton showed the pair of boots to Denby and his team. He gestured to a small insignia.
"Huh, those are initials and the elements put into the materials." Denby scrutinized it. "I recognize this pattern. Didn't you say that Calico was also a blacksmith?"
Grifton nodded. "Yes, so this means that he and the others must've taken up other occupations to make ends meet." He smiled. "I remember sending some diagrams of items that could be made easily and cheaply but turned into moderate to high-quality items that would sell for decent prices."
Denby nodded. "Yet, you received these as a thank-you gift from an acquaintance."
"That I did," Grifton recalled. From Abel Desmond, whom I believe was affiliated with Lamberton merchants." He met the gazes of Denby and others. That tells me that my cousins are alive, at least." He was reassured even while preparing for the latest competition. Though I'm beginning to think we're in for a rough year this time."
Denby nodded. "Soon, we're going to have to retire despite what I thought was still feasible six months ago."
Grifton had expected that, so he wasn't too shocked. "How are your wife, family, and others doing?" He sometimes supplied them with materials for their alternate trades.
"Not as well as I'd hoped. We might have to travel elsewhere for them to regain their health." Denby was displeased. "The environment around here is becoming unhealthy, what with the lowering of regulations regarding air quality pollution."
Grifton grimaced. "Yes, that month-long illness striking everyone about four months ago surely put everything back." He shook his head. There'd been quite a few fatalities resulting from that sickness. No one knew how to cure it. All people could do was relocate to places where the air pollution wasn't as severe.
Morton popped up with a statement. "Some people believe curses are being seeded into the air itself." He shook his head with a scowl. "If that were true, then how many patients passed on wouldn't be so vague."
Grifton listened with mild disbelief. He didn't dismiss it as hearsay since anything was possible—doubtful but still possible. "I would've been able to catch traces of who created it if it was a curse."
Denby glanced at him in surprise. "Now, just how is that possible?"
"Uh, a class being taught right now," Grifton admitted. "It turns out that one of the third-ranked elements I'm able to handle is darkness." He shrugged uncomfortably. "It is minimal, though."
"I see," Denby tapped his jaw. "So, if you had to create a minor disturbance that could serve as a decoy, it is possible to do so?"
The fact that he even asked that made Grifton cautious. "Yes, but as I said, I'm limited in what I can do."
Morton grinned. "That's all we needed to know, kiddo." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "We're asking because something came to our attention about one of the groves we'll be checking soon."
"Uh huh, okay." One of his newest classes taught Grifton what those dark hues in that element-detection crystal had signified. He could control a limited amount of darkness.
"Well, if it is a small distraction, I can do something." All Grifton had to do was infuse just enough mana into a small object to set off chaotic events and create a decoy if necessary.
Denby smiled. "Here's the situation that we're facing." He explained what had evidently been planned for the orchard.
Grifton shook his head. "Seriously, they want to destroy that one closest to the outer boundary just to open up a bigger road to access the other lanes?" There were more accessible locations to do that.
Grifton sat on a bucket he'd turned upside down while they rested in the shade. "I feel they're digging up some other reason for it."
Thus, it meant there was another reason why they wanted to destroy that particular orchard. "I'm willing to bet some old rumors popped up about secret treasure or something else is buried underground," Grifton remembered what had happened before. "They're going to be disappointed." He'd checked through different elementals. There was nothing worth excavating below ground.