"A rare business trip, and the only company I get is a grown man, this really undermines my dignity as a Duke and Guild Master!"
"Maybe I should hire a personal assistant…"
Precht didn't even blink. "If it were Zera or Mavis instead, you'd be a lot more excited, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah… Speaking of which, you've had your nose in that book since we set off. What is it?"
Weston leaned over, curiosity piqued, peering at the pages beside Precht.
"After awakening my Hypnosis Magic, I built a sultry kingdom filled with gorgeous women…"
Smack!
Precht snapped the book shut and gave Weston a flat stare. "If literacy is a problem, I suggest you start from the alphabet."
"Haha, just kidding!"
Of course Precht wasn't reading anything raunchy.
On the contrary, the tome in his hands was a serious, time-worn grimoire titled Detailed Analysis of Psychic Magic.
"Looks like a good read, where'd you get it?"
"Spoils of war."
Weston instantly understood: he'd lifted it off an enemy Wizard after a recent battle.
"Interested in psychic magic, huh?"
"Planning something shady with the village girls?"
Weston cackled. "You're at that age, and with Yuri and Rita flaunting their love around the guild every day, you must be itching inside, right?"
"No crimes, got it? As Guild Master, I'd have to come down hard on you."
Precht knew Weston was joking and stayed deadpan.
"Relax. I'm not into that stuff. Just chasing more magic, probing the roots of the craft."
Weston slapped his forehead and fell backward. "That's exactly why I'm worried!"
To think he'd already forsaken love at such a young age, devoting his life to sorcery… "Why do you say that?" Precht was bewildered by Weston's odd reaction.
Weston shot upright with a whoosh.
"Magic is the power of the heart, the power of love!"
"If you're indifferent to romance, you'll never reach the origin of sorcery."
Precht weighed the claim skeptically.
He'd heard the saying "love is magic's wellspring," but always dismissed it as folklore, too abstract, too "unscientific" for most to grasp.
Yet because Weston had said it, he filed it away in his mind.
Theories are cheap; without proof they carry little weight.
Realizing he couldn't make Precht fall head-over-heels overnight, Weston dropped the subject for the rest of the journey.
The carriage rolled on for three full days and nights.
When Weston and Precht arrived, it was already nightfall on the third day.
The place looked like a crude village.
Crude, but only slightly below the era's average, with forty or fifty households and a hundred-odd souls.
Given the kingdom's recent war, the fact anyone still lived here felt like a miracle.
They advanced cautiously, eyes scanning every corner.
"Well?"
"Nothing major, just looks like an ordinary hamlet."
"Right… Let's find the client."
Following the address on the request, they reached a relatively prosperous wooden house.
Prosperous because it alone boasted a log fence for a yard.
Inside stood a well, stacked firewood, even a worn but serviceable handcart.
A stooped man in his fifties was swinging an axe, splitting logs.
"Hello. We're looking for Village chief Jack."
The man paused, wiped sweat with a towel. "I'm Jack, the chief. And you two are…?"
"Wizards of the Fairy Tail guild. We're here to complete your bandit-elimination request."
Learning their purpose, Jack ushered them into the yard.
"I never dreamed a real Wizard would come to a backwater like this, I only sent that letter on a whim."
"Sorry I can't offer better hospitality."
"No rush, take your time."
Though Weston reassured him, Jack hurried to fetch well-water, scrubbing himself while apologizing to his rare guests.
Soon they sat inside over two cups of black tea.
"Shall we confirm identities and job details?"
"Sure."
"You're the client who posted this request, Jack?"
"Yes! You… you're really from Fairy Tail? May I see your guild crest?"
"Of course."
Both Weston and Precht displayed their marks.
"I'm surprised, this village is so far from Magnolia, yet you knew to contact Fairy Tail and even recognize our crest?"
"Honestly, it's all thanks to the town's Agency Guild."
"Agency Guild?"
A term neither Weston nor Precht had heard before.
Seeing their blank faces, Jack realized they were big-city prodigies out of touch with rural life and explained.
"They connect us small places with the big towns."
"We're too remote to send a request straight to Magnolia, so we need a middleman."
That middleman is the Agency Guild."
They set up in midsize towns, gather requests from tiny villages, forward them to the big-city guilds, and take a cut of the fee."
Weston saw the light.
"Well, well!"
"So they're the middlemen skimming the difference!"