Chapter 119: Two Concerns, Dispelled in One Go

"Go ahead, try washing it," Ron said teasingly.

"What do you mean? Of course I can—huh?"

Aive casually tossed the robe into a wooden bucket full of water, then stared in disbelief. The crumpled garment was actually floating on the surface.

"What in the world?" Aive reached out and pushed it under the water. But when she lifted it out again, it wasn’t just not soaked—there were barely any water droplets on it at all!

"It’s waterproof!" Ron burst out laughing. "The patterns I engraved on the inside of the robe make it repel water!"

"What in the world did you learn?!" Aive flung the robe at Ron’s face. "Get rid of it right now, or you can find yourself a new one!"

"Whoa, whoa, relax. It only lasts for two days. I added a timer effect," Ron said with a laugh. "Besides, the set of Engraving Knives isn’t the real key. The books are what’s most important."

"Even without the Engraving Knife, I can now spend Magic Power, Energy, and time to enchant any inanimate object by infusing it with Magic. For now, though, I’m limited to simple, everyday applications, like making fragile items more durable, or making them waterproof and dustproof."

"And what if you do use the Engraving Knife?"

"Then you get something like this," Ron said, returning to his room and fetching a soup spoon. "You mentioned you were missing a spoon earlier, right? I took it to run an experiment."

On the handle of the otherwise ordinary soup spoon, Aive could make out numerous tiny, almost illegible patterns and symbols. "What did you do to our spoon?"

"I enchanted it with a cantrip—don’t give me that look. I’m not some explosion-obsessed maniac. Safety is the absolute number one priority for everything I make."

Ron knew there were specialists in this world who did this for a living: Mechanicians, a group of people whose creations had a ninety-percent chance of exploding and a ten-percent chance of producing some wondrous effect. He had absolutely no desire to become one of them, so he was always extremely restrained when choosing Enchantment effects.

"Fine," Aive said, her face a mask of disbelief. "So what does this spoon do?"

"Uh... it gets sparkly?" Ron bent the spoon slightly, and it immediately lit up like a glow stick from his previous life. "I put a Light Magic on it. You just have to bend it a little. The upside is that it doesn’t require any Casting Materials. The downside is that *it’s* the only thing that lights up."

"There is no way I’m going back to the Delusional Land to adventure while holding up a soup spoon!"

"To be honest, my first idea was to add Blade Ward, but I figured that would be even weirder..."

"When I use the Engraving Knife, I can add a magical effect to a non-magical item. Aside from mundane Traits, only Magic that is at least two circles lower than the strongest Magic I can use can be enchanted with a near-one-hundred-percent success rate. I get to determine the trigger conditions, duration, and so on," Ron gave a rough explanation of the new trick he’d learned.

"I can also try more powerful Magic. But for each circle higher, the difficulty of the Enchantment increases, and the probability of destroying the item—or even causing an explosion—rises to match."

"Does that mean you’ll be able to make Magic Items like those Gemstones in the future?"

"I can, yes, but even when I’m skilled enough, it will still consume a considerable amount of materials, Energy, and time," Ron said after a moment’s thought. "Enchantment isn’t without its costs for me. Attaching Magic or turning a non-magical item into a Magic Item consumes a corresponding prepared spell slot. A rechargeable item like the Lightning Gemstone would require an even greater expenditure."

’All in all, it’s still a long way from being practical for combat. But it’s a great choice for making little everyday gadgets.’

"That’s a shame," Aive said, getting a general idea of Ron’s current capabilities. "If you were stronger, you might have been able to impress the members of the Rose Council enough to get them to side with us directly."

"The Rose Council?" It took Ron a second to react. "Is there news from Hendrix?"

"There is. But he said he needs to finalize the details with us. He’s downstairs right now—if you’d taken any longer, I was about to break your door down."

As Ron straightened his clothes and followed Aive downstairs, he saw a massive figure sitting in what Aive called her "exclusive seat." Beside him, Constance was chatting and laughing with Aive’s parents.

"I guess your relationship with her isn’t so bad after all."

"It’s just that *I* can’t stand her," Aive muttered. "My parents would’ve taken her in if she hadn’t absolutely refused to live under the same roof as me."

"Ah, Ron! Looking sharp!" Hendrix said with a laugh, glancing at Ron’s still-damp hair. "It seems my timing was perfect. I’ve caught you just as you’ve swum ashore from your sea of books!"

"I accidentally strayed into the deep end and just barely made it back," Ron chuckled, playing along. "Since you’re here, I assume you have some results for us?"

"That’s right," Hendrix nodded. "The situation isn’t ideal. Quite a few council members have reservations about siding with you."

"Reservations? Are they worried we can’t establish a firm foothold?"

This was more or less the stereotype for anyone trying to develop the Delusional Land: their courage was commendable, but no one knew how long they would last.

"That’s one part of it. They have another concern as well: to put it simply, they doubt your prowess in both war and governance."

"What do you mean? Could you elaborate?"

"One faction is worried that you lack the military might to establish a foothold and deal with Carolina," Hendrix shifted his portly frame into a more comfortable position. "The other faction is worried you have *too much* military might—that Carolina is just a minor objective for you, and that you harbor greater ambitions."

"The goblins and Adventurers on the plains attacking Carolina... that was your doing, wasn’t it? Don’t rush to deny it. No one has any proof, but no one’s a fool, either. There’s no such thing as that kind of coincidence."

"You’ve scared some people."

"Come on, really—" Sera said, drawing out the words. "Who are these cowards?"

"There are, and quite a lot of them," Hendrix said, glancing at Sera. The image of the barbarian woman tearing a Fearsome Wolf apart with her bare hands was seared into his memory for life. "So, to address both points, I propose holding a banquet, coupled with a gladiatorial competition."

"The very same real gladiatorial combat I promised to find for Miss Sera."

"A show of both force and diplomacy," Ron nodded. "Address both concerns at once. Thank you for your help. But what exactly do we need to do?"

"It’s simple. You’ll split into two groups. One group will be responsible for convincing the first faction in the gladiatorial arena, while the other will be responsible for convincing the second faction at the banquet," the spice merchant glanced at Ron. "One thing I must remind you of is that according to the rules, Gladiators are forbidden from using Magic or Divine Magic."