Hmmm. It's the third day now, and I still haven't found any work that interests me. From my spot on the wall, I've become a professional people-watcher.
Man in armor? A city guard.
Openly carrying a weapon?An adventurer.
Long, ornate robes?Probably from the church.
Oh, a staff?That's a mage, for sure.
Then I see something rare: a man clutching a roll of papers, being firmly escorted out of the Magic Tower by two guards. I can't help but laugh. His outfit—goggle-eyed and disheveled—looks so... nerdy. What's a nerd, anyway? The word just popped into my head.
My curiosity gets the better of me. I move closer as he scrambles to gather his scattered papers. He looks so pitiful. I may be a small-time thief, but I'm not a monster. I help him, grabbing his hand to pull him up and gathering his belongings.
But as I handle his papers, something catches my eye. The designs are fascinating. I don't know how I know, but I'm sure this would work. It's a wheel designed to be turned by a river's current.
"This is amazing," I blurt out, a spark of joy igniting in my chest. "Using the river's current to power the wheel... and with these gears, you could use it as a wheat grinder and transport water to higher ground for irrigation. It wouldn't rely on magic stones at all!"
The man's face lights up like a sun. "You understand! Finally, someone who gets it!" he exclaims, his voice booming. "My name is Ian Dalewood."
I pause. "Dalewood? A last name... so you're a noble?"
Ian's smile turns wry. "Well, yes, my dear sir. Unfortunately, a fallen noble. And may I ask your name?"
"Maki," I say, my voice cautious. "What's going on here? Why did they throw you out of the Magic Tower?"
"Those narrow-minded mages!" Ian huffs. "They don't believe in any solution that doesn't involve magic. They said that magic is essential to life, and anything without it is a curse or an item of evil! But my work isn't evil! It could save small villages that can't afford magic stones. If only they would believe me."
"Well, I believe you," I said.
I asked the question that had been burning in me since he mentioned his fall from grace. "Ian, where did you come from?"
"I am from the Kingdom of Dilla," he began, his voice growing somber. "My father was a well-known Baron, a toymaker who provided ingenious inventions to help the kingdom. But then a terrible famine and plague weakened us. While we were vulnerable, another kingdom attacked. Our lands were stolen, and now we are refugees here, seeking shelter."
As Ian shared his sad backstory, my focus drifted to one of the papers in my hand. It detailed a water pump—a simple, brilliant mechanism designed to function without a single magic stone. But as I traced the design with my eyes, a flaw became instantly clear to me.
"Wait," I interrupted, pointing at the diagram. "This part here. The water can't climb if the lid doesn't seal perfectly. There's a pressure loss right at this valve."
Ian stopped mid-sentence, his tragic tale forgotten. He snatched the paper back, his eyes wide as he scanned his own design. He traced the line I had indicated, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.
A moment of silence passed before his head snapped up, his gaze a mixture of shock and awe.
"How did that happen?" he whispered, staring at me. "I've been staring at this for months. How did you see it in seconds?"