Caught Off Guard
“Grandfather, the scale of the exhibition keeps growing—what should we do?”
We were all in the sitting room, taking a break after finishing the briefings for both guilds.
“In terms of fairness, the Merchants' Guildmaster’s point is correct,” Grandfather said, resting his right hand on his chin in thought, “but depending on the scale, we might not be able to let everyone who applies set up a booth.”
Yeah, it all depends on how many participants there’ll be.
“If there are too many, we’ll hold preliminaries,” Brother Gerald said casually.
“You say that like it’s nothing, but how are we supposed to handle the preparations?” I asked.
“We can hold the preliminaries in the five towns, the capital, and Eminira. Let both guilds run them. You’ve got the application forms already, and you and the new recruits can help manage things.”
That’s only if there are a lot of participants. Since it’s all new stuff, maybe not that many will show up—it might not even come to preliminaries.
“What about the briefings?” I asked.
“You and Gerald can handle the ones for the village heads. The ones for merchants and regular townsfolk—we’ll leave those to the Merchants' Guild.”
Things just keep snowballing… Why does it always turn out like this?
After the New Year, we held briefings for the village heads in the five towns.
Originally, I’d thought of it as village-based participation, but we changed it to allow groups or individuals to enter freely. We added that if there were too many applicants, we’d hold preliminaries, and that the main exhibitions would be held consecutively in the capital and Eminira.
The reactions varied—some village heads listened intently, others looked like they couldn’t care less.
It wasn’t surprising; some villages got along, others didn’t. I just hoped the ones who were motivated wouldn’t be hindered by the indifferent ones.
The Merchants' Guild’s exhibition leads turned out to be the other two I’d met before, not the old lady guildmaster. They attended my first briefing and then went on to hold two more sessions for the townsfolk.
At first, I joined to fill any gaps in my explanation, but they handled it fine, so I left it to them after that.
Father’s “quota” for the exhibition had been fulfilled, but since the new recruits wouldn’t arrive until March, I’d be stuck handling the front desk until then. Looked like the busy days would continue for a while.
Meanwhile, the small chapel we’d hurriedly built on the estate grounds was finally complete.
It was tiny—could only hold about twenty people—but it had a big window in the center where we’d later install the stained glass.
Today, bishops from the church were coming to bless the new chapel.
Father and the others had returned from the royal capital, and the whole family was gathered to greet them.
When I told Father the exhibition had grown even larger, he pressed a hand to his temple and rubbed it up and down.
Headache, maybe?
“All right, Hardt,” he said finally, “you take charge with the new recruits and handle it responsibly.”
So… I’d be staying involved in the exhibition after all. Still, once the two new people arrived, things should get easier for me.
Someone called out that the bishops had arrived, and we all headed to the new chapel.
They’d offer a prayer first, then chat with Father and the others before leaving.
My plan was to greet them at the chapel and be done with it—I wanted to stay out of this as much as possible.
While waiting in front of the chapel, a carriage stopped.
The first to step out was the kind-looking elderly bishop I’d met during the beastkin’s magic appraisal at the city church.
Back then, I’d thought he was just a priest, but later learned he was actually a bishop—Westland Church’s top man. So seeing him step out first startled me.
Then another man followed—around Father’s age, maybe younger. Slim build, hair so pale it was nearly white, eyes golden. Beautiful, but not fragile—refined and striking.
For a moment, I thought, “If Lucas turned human, he might look like this…”
“Why is the Archbishop here?” Father muttered under his breath.
Wait—the “Archbishop”?
He’s the head of the royal capital’s church! What’s he doing at the dedication of our tiny chapel?
Please, no more surprise visits like this…
What do you think about this chapter?
