Having acquired Production Magic—better known as Craft, Arcus and Catherine Monvoisin spent their days experimenting with it, driven purely by curiosity.
At present, the ability only allowed them to refine raw materials, but according to Eleonora, raising the Craft rank would eventually make it possible to create a wide variety of items.
Of the two, Catherine was the one most enamored with this power.
Like a child given a new toy, she refined different materials every day, carefully recording the results and effects in her notebook. According to Eleonora, Catherine's production magic was likely to strengthen soon, allowing her to move beyond refinement and into full item synthesis.
That said, it wasn't all good news.
The two had leaned heavily on their new ability—hunting magical beasts, refining the carcasses into materials, and selling them to traveling merchants over and over again.
As a result—
"At this point… even we can't handle any more."
"Ah… I figured as much."
They had exceeded the merchants' capacity, leaving them with a large amount of unsold inventory.
Standing inside the warehouse, staring at piles of materials stacked like small mountains, Arcus turned to Catherine with a wry smile.
"These materials didn't have much demand to begin with."
"If we could open a trade route across the sea, things might be different…"
Catherine spoke as if the idea had just occurred to her—but her expression clouded for a brief moment.
(Right… her family was heavily involved in maritime trade.)
Even Arcus knew the name House Monvoisin.
A powerful noble house in the kingdom's southwest, they possessed a massive port and had amassed enormous wealth through overseas trade with foreign continents. Though nobles by title, they also operated their own merchant guild—renowned as shrewd traders.
Seeing Catherine clearly lost in memories of her home, Arcus chose to speak.
"If it were dwarves… they might happily buy materials like these."
It felt a little cruel to press the topic, but avoiding it altogether felt worse—like tiptoeing around a wound.
At his direct question, Catherine looked surprised for a moment, then smiled faintly.
"Yes. Dwarves from the other continent would likely be interested in such sturdy materials."
"Overseas trade, huh… There is a run-down fishing village at the edge of the domain, along a great river.If we ever tried to ship anything, it'd have to be there."
That village was where Arcus's mother Grace and his younger siblings were currently staying. Though called a fishing village, it was practically abandoned—most residents had left to find work elsewhere.
Turning it into a port was unrealistic, at least for now.
"For the moment, let's aim for item creation.If we can turn materials into finished goods, more paths will open."
Arcus placed his hand on the door, ready to leave—but then paused and looked back.
"Catherine—"
Are you worried about your family?
The question almost escaped his lips.
But he swallowed it.
There was nothing either of them could do right now. More importantly, Arcus didn't know how deeply Catherine's family had been involved in her exile.
He felt they were innocent—but had no proof.
So instead, he chose different words.
"Working hard is good… but don't overdo it."
"I understand."
Leaving Catherine behind as she returned a graceful bow, Arcus exited her office.
"Your insight truly impresses me, young master."
As Arcus stepped out, Keith suddenly appeared with a smile.
Startled by the ever-unpredictable retainer, Arcus scratched his head awkwardly.
"Don't just pop up like that…"
If Arcus had any achievement to his name, it was pushing a heavy stone coffin—and perhaps sharing his strange status window with Catherine.
"Flattery won't get you anything."
With a quiet sigh, Arcus spoke—but Keith bowed deeply.
"I speak from the heart."
"So? You showed up suddenly—does that mean you heard something?"
Keith shook his head.
"Tight-lipped, huh?"
"Among the maids, she's opened up quite a bit…but on that single point, she refuses to speak."
"That kind of loyalty is admirable."
Arcus nodded.
"I'll ask her directly. Where's Rita?"
"I'll take you to her."
Following Keith, Arcus crossed the mansion and entered the courtyard.
There, several maids were doing laundry—Rita among them, chatting cheerfully as she worked.
(Good. Looks like she's settling in.)
Relieved, Arcus exhaled softly—just as one maid noticed him.
"Huh? Young master—what's up?"
The others quickly stood and prepared to bow, but Arcus hurriedly stopped them.
"Sorry—can I borrow Rita for a moment?"
"Of course."
To the suspicious looks, Arcus waved it off.
"Just a… workplace environment check."
Rita's cheerful expression faded into confusion as Arcus led her a short distance away.
"Y-young master… is something wrong?"
"You too with the 'young master,' huh…"
Arcus shook his head, then took a deep breath and met her gaze.
"I want to contact the Marquis's house."
Rita flinched violently.
Fear.Anxiety.Doubt.And deep within—hope.
"Catherine said she was abandoned by the world…but that's not true, is it?"
Caught off guard, Rita averted her eyes.
"I—I don't know what you mean…"
"Knowing her, she'd think:'If my family will suffer, I should sacrifice myself instead.'"
Rita's eyes widened.
(Bingo.)
Arcus had suspected as much—not least because he had seen Catherine's status screen.
It clearly read: "Marquis's Daughter."
If she had truly been disowned, it would have said former.
Which meant her family hadn't chosen her exile.
"What are you planning to do by contacting the Marquis's house?"
"You have nothing to do with them anymore," Rita added hurriedly.
Her desperate loyalty made Arcus smile faintly.
"I just want to see how they react."
Arcus explained.
More than a week had passed since Catherine's exile. Her whereabouts were unknown. Rumors of her death were already circulating within the kingdom—and beyond.
But only rumors.
The kingdom couldn't officially confirm her death without exposing its own illegal actions. And so—death by rumor.
Arcus planned to send word to her family that something resembling her belongings had been found.
"Their reaction will tell us how much they care."
If they rejected it, he wouldn't reveal Catherine's survival.
If they accepted—then he could at least ease their fears.
"They'll want it. Without question."
"You sound confident."
"I am."
Rita explained.
Catherine had refused all assistance from her family, placing herself entirely at the mercy of the royal family and the Saint. Even so, her father had pleaded just to send one servant.
That servant—was Rita.
"They love her. And she loves them."
"That's why she chose exile."
Rita nodded.
Arcus glanced at Keith.
"What do you think?"
"I believe her."
Keith explained there was no benefit in Rita lying.
Arcus agreed.
"Then we report her survival."
Rita shook her head frantically.
"The lady doesn't want to trouble them—"
Arcus sighed.
"Do you think a father who adores his daughter would stay silent if he believed she was murdered?"
Rita inhaled sharply.
"Then… what should we do?"
"Tell them she's alive. Quietly."
"But her wishes—"
"Don't worry. I won't hurt her.She's our most valuable asset, after all."
Seeing Arcus's resolve, Rita finally nodded.
"Keith, my father—"
"Already prepared."
Keith produced a sealed letter.
Arcus grimaced.
"You've known me too long."
"Seventeen years, sir."
Keith smiled smugly.
"Then it's settled. Leave my father to you."
"As you wish."
"Ah—one more thing."
Rita stepped forward and produced a bird-shaped magical device.
"She said to use this once she reached a safe place."
A Mail Bird—an expensive communication artifact.
"Address is written?"
"Yes. The Monvoisin estate."
Arcus accepted it.
"I'll take care of her."
Rita bowed deeply.
Carrying Rita's hopes, Arcus walked faster and faster—nearly running by the time he reached his room.
He opened the window, placed the sealed letter onto the Mail Bird's back.
The letter dissolved into light.
The Mail Bird spread its wings and soared into the sky.
Arcus watched its fading trail for a long time.